As an eight-year-old, music played a small, but important part in my life. My mother taught my one year younger brother and I how to sing. We were expected to entertain the releatives when they visited, the harmony part sung by me and the melody by my brother, Allan. At the time a popular duo called the Moilen Sisters graced the airwaves weekly with two part harmony. Some of the songs they sang were "Music in the Air", "Till We Meet Again" and "You Are My Sunshine". We owned two radios, a table model Emerson in curly maple and an upright console model inherited from my grandmother. Every week we would sit entranced by the radio listening to "Lets Pretend" (stories for children) and "The Shadow". Every Christmas my presents always included some type of musical instrument - a large toy xylophone, a harmonica, and once even a real ukelele.

One day I woke up to construction noises in the living room. A quad of workmen was dismantling our bay window and dangling from a huge crane was a large, black upright piano. My fingers itched in anticipation while I watched the piano slowly make its way into the living room. Grandpa finally retired and there was no room for an upright piano in their new apartment.

Accompianing the piano were several boxes of piano rolls. The piano was a player piano! With vigorous action on the two pumper pedals, the Hungarian Rhapsody filled the air and could easily be heard a block away.

For two dollars a week, my mother saw to it that I had piano lessons. Mrs Troise was a kind old lady who taught piano for extra money. We couldn't afford the music books I needed, so she let me use hers. Voice lessons were included and I sang the lead in a production of Hansel and Gretel operetta. The highlight of my musical experience was a trip to Carnegie Hall to hear Paul Hoffman play the Hungarian Rhapsody #2.

After six months of lessons, a piano recital was arranged for me. It was there that I had to admit that I couldn't read a note of music. Mrs. Troise asked me how I had learned the music that I had performed and I explained that when she played the piece just to give me an idea of how the piece should sound, I had learned the piece by ear. Of course, I practiced at home using the music as an occasional reference.

The piano traveled with the family to a small bungalow in a nearby town. With no more lessons planned for me, my mother bought me a book called "How to Play the Piano by Ear". I took to it like a duck to water and soon could play most of the tunes I heard on the radio and at family gatherings. Out of the house, no piano was safe from my hands, I had to try them all. I christened pianos in churches, bars, reception halls, school music rooms and in stores.

When we moved to the hotel in Blairstown, my father decided to convert the piano into an automatic electrified player piano for the guests to play. An old Electrolux vacuum motor and quite a few parts from my erector set found its way into the piano innards. It worked perfectly. Soon we possessed a collection of over two hundred piano rolls. Represented were classical selections, show tunes, pop songs and old standards. Every week our family and guests would gather in the music room to sing the old songs. My Aunt Louise sang alto (the low fifth), Dad and some uncles sang bass and there were many tenors, (the third above the lead). The rest sang the melody. I played the piano.

A retired portrait photograper, my number one hobby is quartet singing.