I did a major cleaning of my childhood home in Camarines Sur last month. Some of the things I found in my old bedroom, kept in a box stowed in the bottom drawer of my cabinet, are recital programmes from high school.

Recital Programmes, 1997-1999

I disliked having to attend regular music class so I enrolled in a special piano class at our school’s College of Music. At the end of every school year, a recital was held. I can only vaguely recall my recitals and even the pieces I played.

These programmes helped remind me. In the 1997 recital, I played Ivanovici‘s Waves of the Danube.



My renewed interest in playing the piano is actually a direct result of my 2-year old daughter’s own interest in it. Numerous times every day she would “play” the piano and sing along with it using her own lyrics. She sometimes makes up her own music too and bows after every “performance”, expecting applause and praises like, “Good job Lia!” “That was beautiful. More! More!” It is a good thing that in my cleaning the house, I recovered all my old piano books and music sheets, tucked away in a big box atop my sister’s bedroom cabinet. I plan to give her some piano lessons myself, at least until I find a suitable school for her; hopefully one that is not expensive and more importantly, not very far away from our home.

I am unhappily wishing that I also kept at my violin lessons so that I could still play it and hopefully teach my daughter some pieces too. Alas, I have not been dedicated enough.

I also found my eldest sister’s banduria, which was at the very top of my bedroom cabinet. Lia said, “Mama, it’s like a guitar!” and was so enamored with it that she brought it along with her around the house. Alas, one afternoon, as she was going down the stairs, the banduria slipped from her hands and went jumping from one step to the next until the bottom of the staircase, and was totally ripped apart. (Ate, if you are reading this, I am truly sorry for the demise of your banduria.) I am now wondering where my own guitar is, a guitar my mother bought for me in Cebu, a guitar that I never learned to play. I’d like to think that it’s still at our condo in Taguig. For some reason, I just really hated the guitar. I plan to take Lia to Quiapo to buy a ukulele one of these days though. I can already imagine her saying, “Mama, it’s like a guitar!” One day soon, she will know the differences of all these musical instruments and hopefully, she can play at least one of them.

 

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