I feel envious when I see someone sit down at a piano or keyboard, or pick up a guitar and start playing effortlessly. One of my longings from the time I was a child, was to play the piano. I took lessons on and off as a young adult, but never quite got past playing a couple of tunes and learning basic note-reading. Maybe it’s too late for me, maybe not.
But this article is not about me, it’s about the people who have provided music as a background to my life, at all stages. My earliest memory is of the lady who accompanied us little ones on the piano at the Methodist Sunday school, playing effortlessly as we sang songs such as ‘I am h-a-p-p-y’ and ‘Count your Blessings’. Even as a very young child, I recognised the skill of those fingers flying over the keys, as if the music was emanating somewhere inside of the pianist and expressing itself through her fingers. As older children and teens, after Sunday School, we would go to the church and sing our hearts out, joyous hymns of praise, accompanied by a youth leader on a keyboard. Our instructor and conductor Darrell, who I guess was also a youth leader in the church, visited Australia at some point and returned with uplifting new songs he had heard there, that he taught us. The girls sat in one set of pews, where the choir would usually sit and the boys sat in the first few rows of congregation pews diagonally to our right. When we sang “Hand me down the Silver Trumpet Gabriel”, the girls would sing the first line of the refrain, “Hand me down”, and the boys would come in with a deep, gruff (as deep and gruff as teenagers can manage) “Hand me down” in response. It was joyous and uplifting. And how can I ever forget The Royal Telephone, Showers of Blessing, and many more?
Sunday School picnics were a highlight and Roger Thiedeman was always on hand with his piano accordion, to accompany our singing.
Another early memory is of school assemblies, which I think were held daily. A female teacher, another magician in my opinion, would sit at the piano recessed in a corner directly in front of the stage and to the right, and accompany us as we sang either the National Anthem or the school anthem, on alternate days. How much I enjoyed this daily ritual and how I revered those magical hands that could make a piano sing. At the end of the year, the small minority of Christian students in a predominantly Buddhist school put on an evening of Christmas carols. I believe it was the same teacher who accompanied our singing. I used to wait impatiently for rehearsals and then the event itself, where parents would sit in the school hall as we stood on the stage and belted out carols in English and Sinhala. To this day I remember the words to some of those Sinhala carols, including Away in a Manger.
Christmas at my Granny’s heralded another time of music and song. After dinner, most of the adults would gather around a piano borrowed for the occasion, and a family friend, Aunty Joan, would accompany them in song. Uncle Sonny, my mother’s only brother, the sole male amongst eight sisters, loved wartime songs and for a couple of hours songs such as “When Irish Eyes are Smiling”, “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary” “I’ll Take You Home Again Kathleen” and many more were belted out by the singing voices and by Joan’s nimble fingers. I remember sitting on the outskirts of this group, longing to join as I loved to sing, and sometimes joining but for the most part, watching, listening, taking it in. A picture and a memory etched in my mind.
Another fond memory is of the church youth league, which we joined when we became Catholics (another story for another time). The first meeting my sisters and I attended ended in a singalong, accompanied by Ionie who was a real wizard on the piano. She played by ear and belted out any tune that was requested. I thoroughly enjoyed the singing. I am an introvert who was also a painfully shy teenager, and music and singing allowed me to express myself in a non-threatening way, and overcome my shyness to some extent. I remember singalongs at various youth leaguers’ homes, celebrating a birthday or getting together to socialise. My most memorable memory is of carol singing at Christmastime. A notice went up at the church for members of the congregation to sign up if they wanted carollers to come to their homes. Many parishioners did and we set out on a few nights, climbing into an open truck with seating on each side, singing all the way to each home, accompanied by someone playing the guitar. Once we arrived at a destination, we would be warmly welcomed and would gather together and sing our hearts out. “Joy to the World”, “Mary’s Boychild”, “Little Drummer Boy” and all the common carols were part of our repertoire. If the home had a piano, which they often did, Ionie would accompany us in her inimitable style. The songs were followed by offerings of Christmas cake and drinks and sometimes other food by the hosts. By the end of those evenings our bellies were stuffed and our voices hoarse but it was a wholly joyous time.
Along the way there have been many singsongs and many musicians accompanying the singing, playing piano, guitar, ukelele. Michael on his guitar in Melbourne and Patrick on the guitar in Queensland are just two of these. Whether I ever learn to play a musical instrument or not, I am happy to have the memory of all those who generously gave of their musical talent in my lifetime.