My piano lessons began in 1955, the year I turned twelve. Miss Anderson’s white hair and faded print dresses disappointed as did the book of lessons. Simple songs, treble staff only, lyrics and chord names printed beneath. Did I practice scales? Was there a recital? I can’t recall. But I remember that tune, one Elvis crooned to me through the radio. I imagined him standing beside me, hand on the piano, as I plunked out notes to "Aura Lee" while he sang "Love Me Tender." And I remember Miss Anderson bragging that, on hot days, she wore no underwear because she had stopped menstruating years before. I remember that I had just begun.
blue moon rising