We grew up with music in our house. Even as a young kid - probably 6 or 7 - I remember marching around the living room while Mom played a rousing tune on the piano for me.
And she played piano really well. We had a Steinway upright that was shipped with us from the USA when we moved to New Zealand in 1963, and the piano seat had a lid that lifted up to reveal piles of sheet music. My favourite was 'Chloe - Song of the South' because it had a spooky drawing of a swamp and of course the song lyric is some guy calling out for Chloe who is lost in the swamp and he's going to go out and find her.
My sister became an accomplished classical pianist, learning on the Steinway and I remember her driving us all bonkers with her repetitive scales, up and down the keyboard for hours. I retaliated by taking up the violin.
My brother got into blues music as a teen and Mom did too. They could be seen nodding their heads in time to the slow bluesy grooves of Big Mama Thornton or foot-tapping to Stevie Ray Vaughn. Mom still held out for jazz though, delighting in the old standards of Oscar Peterson and Erroll Garner, and the wartime memories brought forth by Glen Miller.
I simply cannot imagine my life without music in it. I took up drums in 2010, the year that Mom passed away, and learning to play the jolly things provided solace from the grieving I felt during her decline and after her death.
Not long before she died, Mom asked how I was doing with my drumming so we took a video of me trying to learn and play this instrument, putting out a true cacophony of racket that made no rhythmic sense whatsoever, but I was very proud of my accomplishments.
Mom was the type of person who could always find something good to say about anything, even if it was terrible. However, watching my video defeated her politeness on this occasion. She laughed, looked at me and said, 'Well, good effort, but that's enough to drive anyone to drink.'
I am now much better with my drumming. I am in four bands playing a range of music from country swing and rock and roll, to jazz, latin, and blues.
I think Mom would be quite pleased to see the progress I've made.