I pictured him sitting on telephone books stacked on the piano bench, straining to reach the keyboard. I got Ray Charles down pretty good, but my Mom says I need to work on the basics. A damp memory surfaces. When my brother and I were less than two years old, we managed to climb up on top of the grand piano in my parents' living room and dumped an entire pitcher of water into its innards. The piano had belonged to my mother's father, who died long before we were born.
Mothers forgive everything.
I started practicing on that piano when I was about seven years old. Pianos can endure almost anything. To say that I was no child prodigy would be a vast understatement. Certainly, anyone hearing me that day could have been forgiven for laughing uncontrollably at the suggestion that someday I'd be making my living as a musician. I quit piano lessons soon after that nightmarish recital.