A friend who is in my “Fit over Fifty” class at the local health club is organizing a piano party at her home in November. She is a beginning piano student and thought it would be great fun to invite other novices for an evening of food, drink, and music. We would all play something we’re working on or have mastered or simply just want to share. (We would all probably want a couple glasses of wine first.)
Originally, I declined since I never play in public, which means Earl’s standing invitation to rent Carnegie Hall for my debut is not in any danger of being accepted. But she was persuasive, and I finally agreed to come. Earl and I would join the party.
So I’ve been practicing regularly even though this pseudo-recital is still three weeks away. I chose two selections I’d learned a couple years back because I knew I could play them well without becoming flustered in front of others. I’m a perfectionist and piano is something I’ll never be perfect at. So it humbles me, which is a good thing every now and then. But it’s also fretful.
I think the real challenge of the evening will be to measure the value of playing well or poorly against the camaraderie of new musical friends enjoying an evening together. Really, which is more important?
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