An Ell, a Vee, and Three Eyes

I looked at my hands recently and drew back in horror – ack! These are my mother’s hands! Old hands. Veiny. Couple of dark spots. 

My eight-year-old hands learned scales and arpeggios from Mrs. Vivian Fanning of Belfield Drive in Johnston, Rhode Island. Thirty minutes each day at our Janssen console piano. When we moved, my lessons continued with Mrs. Hattie Bowser of East Greenwich, who allowed me to learn pop songs from sheet music (although she nixed ‘Peaceful, Easy Feeling’ after reading the lyric ‘I want to sleep with you in the desert tonight.’). Well, I was only 13. Back to Mozart.


These hands now play a different keyboard. Fingers tap on keys. Letters create words. Words are strung together into sentences and phrases. Phrases become stories, and are turned into books.

My 58-year-old hands will continue to tap out stories as long as they can. Veins and dark spots and all.

4 thoughts on “An Ell, a Vee, and Three Eyes

  1. Lovely, as always. These brief trips down your memory lane evoke others’ of their own.
    I hope you got to learn “Peaceful, Easy Feeling.”
    At sixty-three, I don’t yet have those brown spots, but my hands certainly look old. I miss the taught skin, look in the mirror first thing in the a.m. not recognizing that aging face, gray hair, and jowls beginning to form. I still feel young and that’s all that matters, no? At least I do once I get going. Getting out of bet each day, I feel ancient.

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  2. Love! I was just looking at my hands yesterday and thinking same. I also took the almost-same piano lessons, except I don’t have a musical bone in my body, according to my mother. It’s true; however, I am a great appreciator and have hundreds of obsolete CDs to prove it!

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