The Piano Thing
by John D. Schminky
The piano thing with Dad was crazy. When I was a kid, he used to play the piano. He wasn’t great, but he could play. He’d play old hymns and throw back his head and sing while he played. Loud, too. It was kind of embarrassing. But he got a charge out of it.
Because of the Alzheimer’s, it got to the point where he couldn’t really play anymore, and that got him flustered. Mom told me that one day he tried to play but couldn’t, and when she got home from the store, he was next to the piano crying. He told her he wanted a piano teacher to come in and give him lessons. Mom knew that was crazy, but he didn’t understand, and he kept going on and on about it.
To settle him down, Mom began to sit with him at the piano. She’d go over some easy stuff with him. She’d hit a key, and then some others, and then Dad would hit them. She had to keep hitting the keys over and over again to get Dad to understand which ones to hit. The whole thing didn’t make any sense, but Dad kept wanting to do it. I know it got on Mom’s nerves, but she kept on doing it anyway.
That went on until Dad couldn’t hit the right keys even after Mom showed him which ones to hit. He lost interest then. Not long after that he didn’t recognize her anymore.
If you can believe it, that was when Mom got stronger. Not just about Dad, but about everything. She said it was a cross. Don’t ask me to explain it.
John D. Schminky is a retired lawyer. He resides in Sarasota, Florida.