The consistent back and forth movement and ticking sounds of the metronome were mesmerizing and, contrary to its purpose, made me want to leave the piano-bench, jump around and dance. The two pennies carefully placed on my wrists to eliminate extraneous hand movement and keep them steady failed to do so, nor could their presence reign in my five-year-old’s impulse to shift about. I was not created to be still.
When the coins fell, clinking on the ivory keys or bouncing off the piano bench, any pretense of maternal patience disappeared. I became the object of my mother’s withering disapproval and the recipient of a guilt-inducing scolding. On one occasion I screamed in protest, threatened to throw the pennies down the toilet and stick a piece of bubble-gum on the metronome’s pendulum. The subsequent outburst from my mother including the dreaded words “wait until your father gets home,” which implied a lecture and spanking before dinner.
After months of intense instruction and spotty practice sessions, my mother and father gave up the dream of having their first-born become a pianist, an instrument they both enjoyed playing. For me it was a pyrrhic victory. They decided I would be a violinist instead, dismissing my desires to play the trumpet or be a “feast of moving parts,” untethered, a dervish of flailing arms and legs pounding and peddling away on a drum set.
“You have a God-given talent to play the violin,” my father declared, “it would be the devil’s handiwork if you failed to embrace the gift.” He would frequently close lectures with frustration and anger, declaring, “Why do you have to do things the hard way!?”
Always powerful figures in my family’s daily life, God and the Devil now became warring combatants not only in how I approached fiddling, but in how I lived my life—even as a youngster. Being a good boy (Godly), a dutiful son, often clashed with a stubborn and unyielding desire to have my way (Devil driven). I could be equal parts compliant and outrageously rebellious, often accepting praise for the former and condemnation for the latter as equal and affirming measures of who and what I was becoming—blessed and damned. Years later, I learned, while on my analyst’s couch, that this [at times] costly and conundrum-like way of being enabled me to survive.
God became a demanding and insatiable taskmaster, while the Devil offered respite and pleasure. When drawn to rebellious and impulsive action (of the Devil) I came to expect a humbling comeuppance pie (God-baked) waiting on a menu somewhere. Good-boy efforts, playing by the others’ rules, seemed to deny my voice and in so doing created suffocating self-doubt. Brazen forays into devilish and risky behaviors, though empty of lasting fulfillment, became my norm, and though I loved feeling rakish, I despised the emptiness that often accompanied my actions. I loathed this conundrum, but invited and embraced it, nonetheless. Looking in the mirror often stimulated a one-or-the-other wished-for life either as a hell-bound reprobate free of the religious roots with which I’d been raised, or as a heaven-bound saint above reproach and wrong-doing.
Instead, I have found a way to “balance the pennies.” There are times in life when I play the “notes” as written in the script and the “coins” remain in place, a comfortable and assuring way to live. Other times, I go off script, the “coins” bounce off the keys and clink on the floor, improvisation takes over, and I make mistakes but trust that with patience I’ll find my way.
When stricken down by the weightiness of self-doubt, I know there’s work ahead that will lighten the load, a process I’ve come to embrace while appreciating the pendulum-like swings between confidence and self-doubt, angelic and devilish behavior, and the knowledge that such swings are an inevitable part of my life. I would not experience life as the vibrant yet puzzling journey I have come to expect if I lived it any other way.
Sometimes I want to flush the “copper coins” of doubt and devilry and the goodie-two-shoes ones that I discover in my pocket, but I’ve learned to hold on to them, and mindfully see what they can teach me. At these times, reflection, a practice of mindfulness, candid conversations with God, and exercise help bring the controlled chaos of the metronome’s beat back into focus.
It has been a while since I threw that tantrum by the Steinway & Sons piano, but the gratitude for lessons learned “the hard way” has been enduring.
by 
Roger
Thanks for your 5 year journey and sharing of your writing craft (discipline) plus inner journey (discipleship). Curious what musical accompaniment should be to celebrate be it piano, violin or Buddy Rich (Ginger Baker?) riff! Play on friend, please play on!
Rich
Rich,
Thanks for spending time with these words. Gene Krupa came to Hastings High School for a solo performance. Most likely it occurred during my junior high years. In order to attend I lied to my jazz-hating parents (the devil’s music) telling them that I was going bowling with the church youth group. Krupa was great, I got caught, and a lifelong love of jazz began.
Roger
Roger thanks for this. We all need words of encouragement and inspiration these days.
Music lessons were often fraught with angst and disappointment. My father was a frustrated jazz pianist and drummer. He took a few lessons from Gene Krupa and once got for me a pair of Krupa’s sticks. 7AAA if I remember, and rather than frame them I used them, they were so fast, beating them to pieces in a matter of weeks.
Toby,
Great story, sticks and Krupa, and maybe a different professional path had you not enjoyed the fast drumsticks so much! Somewhere Krupa’s smiling.
Thanks for reading and commenting,
Roger
Sometime one’s cacophony is another’s harmony. I was just reading about the passing of Don Shula. He was a record winning coach. Yet, he still lost games. When asked how he handled winning and losing , he replied, “ failure is not failure and victory is not forever !”
When you lose you evaluate and move on to the next game. When you win you celebrate but still have to play again. Just keep playing.
Thank you for another thought provoking piece, Roger.
I had never heard of pennies on top of hands for balance. This may have been your teacher’s personal form of discipline? I think that would have scared me away from music at five years of age. I wanted to play piano so badly as a child. I even dreamed nightly that I was a concert pianist, playing in front of large crowds, but probably due to the expense of a piano, my older sister got an accordion with nine years of lessons that she hated, and I got a violin instead. But oh, what a blessing that turned out to be with my grammar school having a full orchestra, falling in love with the violin, working my way up to becoming 1st violinist. That experience and the special attention I received from our beloved orchestra leader kicked off a lifetime career as a professional guitarist and singer. I can really relate to you what you said about sticking to the notes on the page or else improvising in life and knowing what best serves you in the moment is the balancing act.
Jo Anne,
The pennies piece to stabilize the wrist could have been my mother’s concoction but I think it had “legs” beyond her desire to discipline me. Your musical roots have been strong and you have been a wonderful steward of the gift and talent you have. When we find “beloved orchestra” leaders, or they find us, we are fortunate regardless of the setting. I’ve had more than my share but have not always been willing to follow their lead. You inspire me because it is never too late!
Roger
Alan,
Thanks for reading and commenting. When reflection grabs my soul many harmonious moments come to mind, however, some of those were cacophonous to my companions–you included–but we have kept “playing.” Letting go and moving-on is not easy so thank you for the reminder to heed Coach Shula’s words when I take victory and failure too seriously!
Roger
A lovely piece, Roger. True to your own experience and identity, but also generalizable to the rest of us. I suspect we all have “pennies” of one form or another – those voices in our heads and people in our lives – some that call us to task, and others that lead us past convention and on to new adventures. Adventure is risky, but worth it (well, most of the time). That cacophony of pennies hitting the floor brings forth in me a good dose of childish laughter, and the question, “what will happen next?” Whatever it is, it’s probably worth it.
Gus,
Thank you for commenting. I laughed when the pennies clinked. My mother’s scolding may have more about the levity than about my resistance to practice. You’re correct, the reprimand and later lecture was a price well worth paying for the fun of five-year-old defiance!
Roger
I love how you describe your vivid memories of childhood experiences, turning them into lifelong lessons, still working their way in and out of your search for yourself. How reassuring to see and feel the balance of the pennies, learning to accept and embrace with love, the yin and yang of who you are. You write with an honesty that invites us to look at ourselves with similar courage. Thank you for sharing your gifts with us. Go for the five year retrospective as you celebrate a significant birthday! Write on, mon ami
Colette,
Thanks for these comments, and yes, “…still working their way in and out of your search for yourself.” The quest is wonderfully endless and annoying in equal and embraceable measures. Thank you for the birthday wishes and encouragement. As long as we “look at ourselves” living fully has a chance, and we all deserve that.
Roger
Great post, Roger! And, Happy Birthday!
Mike,
Thank you for both, Mike, very special that you’d read and comment.
Roger
Roger! I appreciate the words and the works – with pianos, violins, baseball (= devil or angel? & where do the Dodgers fit in here?), Wheaton, Taylor, Fuller & Jim. I still am sad for the parental concoction of a confusing mix of guilt & grace & more guilt you experienced … often with the spanking with a rod called St. Paul. (You know they really thought they loved you … & they did.) Not having that religiosity in my family of origin, Paul helped me by offering me a front row seat in his Romans 7:24/25 Club. I know you are a member as well. The Balancing Pennies I & II sure explains a lot of the Approach – Avoidance behaviors! So … Reluctant AND Prodigal Disciple AND Brother, keep on writing, writing the wrongs & the rights, b/c you’re ALL RIGHT forever in that grace abounding Redeemer guy. See you some Friday morning, I hope!
Chuck,
Thanks for reading and commenting. Peterson translates this passage well: “I’ve tried everything and nothing helps. I’m at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn’t that the real question?”
Seems improbable that my quest for meaning would have ended/begun at the foot of the cross had I not been predisposed or destined to look in that direction by and through my childhood experiences with Christian parents–grateful for that, even the traumas of those times. The contradictions keep occurring in my life as do the doubts, but all are solidly grounded in a relentless God and a strong and well-tested faith.
Roger
Roger
It’s always stimulates reflection when I read your posts. This, and your first post resounded with me, especially the piano lessons issue where an imposition of a parent’s will attempted to cloud your true personality. In this case who do we recognize, post therapy, as the guilty party. Yes we are “prone to wander” but from God not from unreasonable demands. I love how Jesus treated the “sons of thunder” forming tight bonds without trying to break their spirits. In a recent sermon, Breakfast with Jesus”, we read about His compassion for Peter’s frailties while affirming his ability to “feed my sheep”. You have touched many lives despite your falling pennies.
Kay,
Thank you for reading and commenting. It becomes our natural selves to find a guilty party when parental mistakes and brokenness impact us, but the healthier path is to recognize that, mute it’s impact and strive to live fully into who our “true personality” is. Those clouds that prevent that are formidable. I know because I see wisps of them every day. You too, I think.
Travel well,
Roger
A friend suggested this might be a “grand first chapter” for the book proposal. He also wondered “…did you mischievously twist your hand or did the pennies “unurged” just drop off???”
The first chapter idea may work, but with greater assurance I can say the pennies were unabashedly urged!
Roger,
Your comments hit the nail on the head as far as I was concerned. For every failure there is a success. When you fall you have to get back up. I have always learned more from my losses than my wins. At the present time it is with golf. It keeps me humble and grateful just to be alive and well. Being outdoors for awhile, away from technology and the daily grind, really heals my soul. Write on my friend. I look forward to the next one.
Cy
Cy,
Thanks for reading and responding with these comments. Golf, the few times I play, tests my patience and too often stirs my soul in ways that are the opposite experience of “heals my soul!” My hat’s off to you, and you give me something to strive for if and when I get on a golf course again, thanks.
Roger
I also grew up in a Christian home but without too much of the devil/angel tug-of-war. I was an angel throughout the first half century of my life, with some inexplicable lapses along the way. There was the lie I told in high school that got me into a lot of trouble, and I failed a couple classes in college. These lapses interrupted an otherwise goody-goody dean’s list life. Then as an act of total rebellion I became a drug addict at the age of about 55. After my parents had gone I guess I showed them what I was really made of, but in a few years of moral decline I got the devil out of my system. Now I am proceeding with my conscious attempt to please my parents and my peers and I have returned to the wholesale pursuit of goodness with my God and for those in need. I find a lot of fulfillment in my work and I don’t believe I have the instinct to stray too far from the reservation from here on out. I am aware of the devil in my life but he is caged now and I am having too much fun to allow him to recover his authority over me. He had his way with me for a while, and I am fortunate to have escaped his grasp.
Bill,
Your miscues and contrition, “moral decline” and getting “the devil out of” your system are all commendable–one without the other doesn’t work! I’d like to lay claim to having a foot in only one of the realms, the healthier of the two, but I suspect the feet are equally stuck in both! Thanks for reading and commenting, I’m in good company.
Roger
Roger, your take on the Jesus Barbecue got me to laughing. Your journey toward discipleship is an inspiration for me. I am following along behind you trying to keep up. But this isn’t what got me to laughing. This is serious stuff that you grapple with on behalf of all your fellow “reluctant disciples,” including me. What got me to laughing was the vignette of you a few dunes away: “The sex I had in the sea-grass while the rest of you attended Him would have been compelling and hollow.” My suggestion is that it would have been a lot less hollow if you could have found a woman collaborator among the all-male cast on the beach that morning!
Bill
Bill,
Wow, I “blew it” in the dunes, and messed-up the opportunity to share a fine meal with loving friends! I need to pay more attention!
Roger
I also was instructed to balance pennies on my wrists while learning to play the piano. I remember three things: one was that I pretty quickly decided I wanted to keep my wrists flat without the pennies, to do what was asked by myself, without those babyish reminders. Second was that I looked longingly at the pennies, wishing they were in my piggyback! Third, perhaps as a consequence of the second, I once busied myself with trying to slip one of the pennies in between the white keys to see what would happen. To my horror, it fell through and probably is still under the keyboard of my childhood piano at my father’s home! I think I must have had a lot of determination in this task to actually make it happen! We make our peace (or compromises) with restrictions and the inhibitions or opportunities they afford, each in our own way I suppose!
Cindy,
Much better idea than flushing pennies down the toilet! Thanks for commenting further, and congratulations on a lifelong love affair with the piano!
Roger