Rusty

Write a blog post inspired by the word: rusty.

I loved playing the piano when I was a young girl. I remember sitting up straight and proud on the bench and placing my crooked little fingers in correct position on the keys. Piano lessons were something I looked forward to. I practiced and practiced all week long so I could get a gold star on my page for passing the song off. As I got better at playing and could use both my left and right hand to play a song, I imagined myself as a concert pianist. I could feel the music moving my hands as they went up and down the ivory key board. Playing the piano transferred me to another place. I never felt like lessons were a chore. I was at the point when I started to play hymns when I became interested in a boy that would eventually take me away from the desire for lessons all together. It became much more fun to hang out with him instead of practice the piano. I abandoned my piano lessons and never looked back. My skills became rusty. That is until I became a mother of small children. I yearned for a piano again. 

While living in Colorado, we found a baby grand piano and had it restored. It was beautiful! I started making plans to pick up lessons again. But we were moving around quite a bit. Things were unsettled and it was difficult to move an extremely heavy piece of furniture like that around. We were in fear of damaging it with frequent moves. Eventually we sold it in Denver to a piano store. My skills would remain rusty. 

Only a couple of years later, I would be divorced. I found myself in a very uncomfortable financial situation and was unable to see a future in music of any kind, neither for myself nor my children. Going back to school shifted my priorities. I was in survival mode. Providing for my young family's needs and getting a degree became my top focus. Everything else had to be put on hold. 

It wasn't until I was re-married and finances started to improve that I started thinking about piano again. I started thinking about the piano I grew up on. It was just sitting in the basement of my parents home. When I found the room for the piano, I asked mom if I could take it. I would love it! She gave me the ok to take it and I arranged for a local piano store to transport it from Price to Brigham City, where I was living. I was so thrilled to see the piano I had grown up on make its way to my home... finally! 

I brought all my childhood books with me and had high hopes of picking up the piano skills that had become so rusty. One problem, and it was big! The piano was out of tune. And not just out of tune... but un-fixable. I take my piano books out every now and again and sit myself upon the bench and place my, still crooked, fingers in position and play some songs. I can only remember the top hand. The piano is so out of tune that it just sounds awful. What once sounded like beautiful, angelic music, know sounded grossly off key. So, I have resigned myself to accept the fact that I will never play the piano again, like I had always dreamed of. My skills will remain rusty. The piano is just a very beautiful piece of  antique furniture that holds the fondest memories of my youth.

But, there is hope! I am going to shift my focus from the piano to the organ. I am going to learn how to play the organ! Yes I am! I am going to be an owner of an organ and I am going to play beautiful music. All day if I want. And, then I'll sing to the music I make. I am going to sing beautiful music. Yes I am! My skills will not remain rusty. I won't allow that to happen. Before I exit this life, I am going to get those skills back. Yes I am! Then, I can continue to make beautiful music in heaven. Yes, I will!

Hunter's Orange

 A blog post inspired by the color orange.

It's been a long time since I have thought about the days of hunter orange. Orange is the color you wear when you go hunting. Hunter orange pops out and signals to other hunters that you are a human and not to shoot! You wear orange for safety reasons. 

I took hunters safety as soon as I was old enough. My best friend Lynette and I were anxious to get our card, making us legal hunters. We were 12 years old. So big!

I passed the 8 week course and a shooting test and was ready to go hunting with dad. And, of course, that was only natural... with him being game warden for the State Fish and Game. Dad always encouraged and welcomed us kids to go out with him every year sometime during the hunt.

The day before the deer hunt weekend was a holiday in Carbon County. The school district designated Friday of opening deer hunt as "Hunter's Orange" day. A day to dress up in hunter's attire. I usually found myself in a big, oversized sloppy orange sweatshirt with a drawstring and hood. One of the many that was stashed away in the basement with orange hats, gloves, vests, and coats. It was so exciting to be at school. The anticipation was high with talk of going deer hunting. And... of course I had claim to the best guide around. My dad!