When Terry and I were first married in 1992, one of the upstairs rooms in our house was designated "the computer room," but it was in most respects really "Scott's room."
Oh, we both used it, but I was the one who "decorated" it, if you want to call it that. It had hockey and music posters on the wall. It featured stuffed Bill the Cat and Opus dolls from my favorite comic strip of the time, "Bloom County." It had a little nook in which I placed the Yamaha keyboard on which I would doodle from time to time.
As I was just 22 years old at the time, it was in some ways the college dorm room I never had.
It was the only room in the house over which I had (or wanted) any real say when it came to what we put there and how it looked.
Fast forward 33 years to our current house and this tradition of giving me one room to play with has continued. Terry uses our upstairs office all the time, but most of the stuff there is mine.
There are, for example, three bookshelves to hold my personal library, including this one devoted largely to my military history books:
And on top of that is a little shrine to our dearly departed cats Fred, George and Charlie:
The music theme continues in this little corner with the inclusion of two instruments (a keyboard and guitar) that I technically cannot play, though that never stops me from trying. Note that the room also contains my alto saxophone, which for the record I can play.
On the walls are various photos reflecting my interests, from a large autographed image of Sting to an autographed Lake Erie Monsters (our local hockey team, now called the Cleveland Monsters) layout. I also have a map of the Appalachian Trail and these two pictures of my mom and dad presumably taken on Parents Night when I played high school football:
Above those are my undergraduate and graduate school diplomas from John Carroll and West Virginia universities, respectively:
There's also a closet containing music and sound equipment and a large bin of sheet music I won't even bother showing you.
The point is that, while this room will never win any interior decorating awards, it's my room, and I love it. Terry does a wonderful job putting together the other rooms in our house, but I'm very grateful to have one to myself.
After all, I have helped us make a lot of mortgage payments over the years. It feels like I've earned a few square feet of my own.
Terry bought me a Yamaha keyboard for Christmas, and I just love it.
Well, technically, I bought it for myself and we said it would be from her, but the result is the same.
Here's the thing, though: I can't play the piano. I mean, I can figure out simple tunes with my right hand. But actual two-handed songs with chords and such? It's not happening.
I lack the talent, the patience, and the finger length to do it. Plus, bass clef and I simply don't get along.
I have several Facebook friends who are wonderfully talented piano players. I admire (and envy) them. I will never be able to match them.
I mention all of this as context for the personal triumph that is teaching myself to play Beethoven's "Für Elise," a song that requires the use of both the left and right hands.
Now, when I say "teaching myself to play," you have to understand that my definition of that is getting from the beginning of the song to the end without crashing and burning. It does not imply that I'm going to get everything right, nor indeed that the melody I play will really match the original.
The video above of me playing "Für Elise" is full of issues that would make a piano teacher cringe.
For one thing, I know my finger positioning is incorrect. And several times I hit the left hand keys too hard, giving the bass notes far more oomph than Herr Beethoven would have intended.
Then there's the unfortunate pause in the middle of the song as I temporarily lose my bearings and try to get my fingers on the correct keys.
And of course the left-hand note I completely miss near the end of the song.
I also freely admit that the little right-hand-only breaks in the middle of the tune do not match the original. Those for sure don't align with what Beethoven wrote. I'm pretty much just making those parts up.
In short, it's a mess.
But it's my mess, and I learned to do it all on my own.
I know I sound like an 8-year-old who just figured out how to multiply two-digit numbers, but I'm inordinately proud of this recording for two reasons:
(1) The tune is somewhat recognizable. There was no guarantee I was ever going to get to that point...again, especially when you consider my inability to play the left-hand part of almost any other piano song.
(2) I was satisfied with doing my personal best. Normally I can't stand being anything but perfect with any task to which I set my mind, but in this case I learned to be happy with my wonky version of an iconic classical melody (one that any semi-competent pianist can play with ease). I tried, and this is the result...mistakes and all.
