Bemusings

Every Thursday night I drive to North Hollywood for piano lessons, and every Thursday night I am struck into bemusement as I get off of the 170 freeway at Oxnard. Because right there on the side of the off-ramp, before you even get to the bottom of the exit, there is a big handicap sign at the side of the road. You know, the big blue sign with a white wheelchair-person on it.

To say the least, I'm puzzled by this. Are there handicapped people hiding in the bushes along the side of the ramp, that are suddenly going to run (or walk, or hobble, or roll if they are in a wheelchair) across the street? Is the off-ramp only FOR handicapped people? Am I handicapped because I use it? Or will I BECOME handicapped if I use it long enough? I mean, it's a tight turn as I come off the freeway, but it doesn't seem THAT dangerous.

I just don't know. It's very perplexing.

Anyway, off the topic, but my piano teacher recently asked me if I'd like to be in a recital with some of her other students. Instantly I had this vision in my head of me sitting in a room with a bunch of 10-year-olds, waiting to play Mozart's Sonata in C Major K545, after they are all done with their Spinning Songs and Chopsticks, and so on. (Actually, the kids will probably be playing harder pieces than me, if I know them. Grrr, kids!) And other parents would think I was a parent too, in the audience, until I got up to play. Ha! So of course, I said yes. How could I refuse an opportunity that, at the least, is sure to afford me a good blog? I ask you.

But it will be fun to perform again. Though I wonder if things have changed in the piano-performance world since I used to be a (minuscule) part of it. So long ago--why, back in my day, we didn't even HAVE pianos. We had to move our fingers and sing the notes as we went.

I'm lying, of course. We had pianos... and we had to strap them to our backs and walk three miles in the snow (because back then SoCal would get snow, it was the Ice Age you see) and then set it up in the little wooden school house where Laura Ingalls resided and then play for everyone, our brave little fingers stiff with cold.

Ok, I am being silly now. "Brave little fingers"?? Whatever.

The POINT is, I'm looking forward to playing in front of people again. It's great learning music for it's own sake, but after all, music is meant for communication, for expression. You don't get the full experience of music when you play it only for yourself.

So it should be a fun time, and I'll keep you all posted. In the meantime, if anyone can come up with reasons why a handicap sign might be placed alongside a freeway off-ramp, I'd be forever grateful. It's driving me crazy!