“Come on Adam. You can do this.” I’m sitting down at an instrument that used to serve no more purpose to me than being a giant piece of furniture. I’d always loved hearing the harmonious melodies that would come from this massive hunk of wood and ivory when other more enlightened individuals would sit down and tickle its keys. The extent of my ability to do the same peaked at my slamming out random notes whenever I walked by this thing they called a piano. But I would marvel at those who actually knew what they were doing. To watch their fingers dance with untold precision and accuracy, possessed by some ghost of great composers past was awe inspiring, and I was somewhat envious. I’d always considered something like that to be beyond the scope of my talents. It’s interesting how completely you can change your mind.

So one day I decided to take a chance and see if you really can do anything you set your mind to. I bought a few books and began to read up on this instrument and how you can turn noise into music. I couldn’t wait to try it myself. So I went out and found a place where I could practice. The first time I sat down I was so excited. Trying to keep myself calm and focused I would open my books and work through the exercises. The hours drifted away unnoticed as I delicately played the notes on the page. At first my fingers were somewhat rigid and unyielding. They would rebel repeatedly against my orders, nervously twitching and playing the wrong note over and over again. This was bad enough when I was using one hand at a time, especially since my left hand suffers from something known as “functional retardation”. When I moved into using both hands at once the fun really began, and I wasn’t making music so much as I was making a racket. But I persisted, knowing in time my will would prevail. Again and again I hammered away at each measure, and gradually the notes began to come together. Finally I sat back in total amazement. If only for one long minute, I had succeeded in playing a piece, and it had sounded like it was supposed to. And a grin stretched across my face.

I had wondered what playing the first time would be like. Would I enjoy it? Would I pick it up quickly? Would I get bored? Would it be too frustrating? In my first session I answered every one of these questions. I did enjoy it, more than even I thought I would. I did pick it up at a surprisingly quick pace, and after the first day I was doing things that I could not believe. Not once did my mind wander to other things due to lack of interest. Playing the notes before me dominated my entire being, and I yearned to see what was on the next page. It was frustrating in a sense, but not in the way I expected. I was never discouraged when I couldn’t play something correctly, but mostly just impatient as I knew I could do better. I just had to keep working at it.

Even when I was done I found myself thinking back to my practice sessions. The tunes played in my head and my fingers belted out the melodies on tabletops as I drummed along. I couldn’t wait to go back and learn more.

I spent over six hours sitting in front of that instrument this weekend. “The Trolley Song” never sounded so good.