I started taking piano lessons when I was 7 years old.  After 5 years of sticking with my classical training, I declared myself good enough to stop taking lessons.  Because seriously: I was 12 years old, and clearly knew all there was to know… 

My Dad told me he thought I would surely quit for good.  But he was so very wrong.  I started songwriting and never looked back.  I made an album, and I made a little money. Then I made several more albums, and I made a little more money, and a few people started showing up to my shows that weren’t my cousins and high school friends.  Finally, I made the grand leap of calling myself: 

Professional musician.  Fancy. 

So music became my job.  I even started teaching it.  Ho-ly Mo-ly.  I was even teaching?!  My knowledge was unparalleled! 

Except it was totally paralleled.  Not only that, music knowledge was leaving me in its dust. 

When new technology comes into the medical world, professional doctors get trained to learn to use it.  Professional computer programmers must forever learn new code and software.  And professional chefs are constantly learning about new techniques and ingredients.  

The moral: to be professional, a person has to learn.  All…the…time. 

And so it was that I started taking piano lessons again this week.  My teacher is a jazzman in Rockford named Mike.  I learned more about piano theory in my first lesson with him than I did over the past few years on my own.  I was so fascinated by how much I didn’t know (I’m talking about you, dominant Circle of Fifths). 

This time, I’m sticking with the lessons.  I love music too much to not be its lifelong pupil. 

Reader, I hope you had a great weekend.  It’s going to be another week of tar removal at the building for this music student.  I hope this new week brings you intrigue and joy.  See you next Sunday. -Em

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