"I am a Clow-ow-ow-ow-own"

So many memories....such great years of my life. Since we are recounting all memories, the significant and less so, I have one to share. This also took place in the lovely living room on Central Ave. where so much fun and frivolity transpired in the Hogan household. As you all know, I've always so cherished the moments I could slip away and play the piano. Each morning, after heating up my 2 Little Debbie "pecan-twirls" or honeybun (we did eat wholesome breakfasts but this was my favorite), I'd run down the hall to sit behind Nana's piano. I'd practice my piano there until my hook-up (that's what we called it at Ensworth) came to pick me up or until it was time for us to leave because it was Mom's morning to pick-up the group.

George would usually be doing something equally productive such as sit glued to the television watching Gilligan's Island. He was probably eating a Honeybun out of the cream colored or black microwave dish that Mom still has, I'm sure. It’s just as likely that he was eating a microwaved white Lender's bagel by dipping it into the Philadelphia cream cheese container....which everyone else in the family always appreciated. Unfortunately, when he came to live in Cincinnati with Trey and me for a year, he'd not broken himself of that habit but he had graduated from the Skipper to watching Zach Morris and his posse.

ANYWAY, one afternoon, George was hovering around the piano as he so often would, trying to annoy me and I decided to write a song for him. I feel like it was a joke (at least in my mind) because it was such a hokey song but he LOVED it! I even made up words. (I should add that George was about 8 at the time before it gets weird. The lyrics were as follows: "I am a clo-ow-ow-ow-own. How do you do?" Clever, huh? I think that was about the extent of it. George loved it though and danced about the living room boisterously with great excitement. He leapt over the blue couch in the center of the room, and threw himself on the floor as all little boys do in their everyday activities. He might have even had his standard piece of American Cheese in hand(not "cheese FOOD" but the real thing- we NEVER ate the individually wrapped "fake" stuff mind you). To this day, if I start that feisty base line on the piano, he gets giddy and his feet start a tap-tap-tappin'. My how catchy tunes never leave your mind. ;)

While we're on the subject of the piano, I might as well share a couple other blips with you. George used to sneak in from the long hall, crawling on his hands and knees and turn the corner into the living room where I sat contentedly playing the piano. Once positioned under the piano, he would then abruptly grab my foot or leg and I'd obviously scream bloody murder! This was a regular occurrence. It actually caused me to allow unnecessary rests in my pieces as I'd sense George's presence at my feet and have to stop to make sure he wasn't under the piano. I sure felt silly the many times I thought he was there and looked down to see nothing but my foot on the pedal. When he moved to Cincinnati 2005-2006 he continued the tradition. Trey tried it a couple of times. It scared me but was honestly just a little weird. :) I guess that's what little brothers are for....not husbands.

Oh and Mom, George used to hide his cigarettes under the piano.

That piece of furniture has been all over the country. I know that it was in Winchester, IN when my great grandma Nellie Beals "Nana" bought/owned it. It was then moved to Memphis, TN when Nana moved in with Mom's mom/family (Harriet Beal’s Romeiser). Mom then inherited it and it moved up to Boston in an open air truck. You can tell SOMEone isn't a pianist.....as most would shudder to think of that beautiful instrument loaded onto some hillbilly get-up trailer headed up the east coast. SOoooo.....Mom taught me the standard knuckle/fist roll song that everyone learns as a little one. I remember Mom teaching me that once we got to Nashville (age 3-4). Her passion must have been radiating off of her as she went to town teaching me that masterpiece because I was hooked after that. I don't think anyone ever had to ask me to practice. That piano was like a magnet to me. Every spare moment I wanted to play. There were certainly times Mom and George....especially George, requested that I STOP practicing the piano. George continued with those requests when he lived here with us in Cincinnati. I must say, though that Dad would, on occasion, just sit in a chair in the living room and listen. He'd compliment how lovely my playing was....I so appreciated that and think his compliments helped me continue in spite of George's frequent ridicule....UNLESS, that is, unless I started playing "I am a Clo-ow-ow-ow-own." That charmed him like snake every time.

The piano left Nashville and moved to Franklin, TN then on to Tulsa, OK. Trey and I then spent LOTS of money restoring the piano as a piece of furniture and then having it restrung, where needed. We even had the bench redone. The guy asked me several times if I was sure I wanted to do this because we could've bought a concert grand for as much as we put into this old grand piano but it wasn't about the money. I could never trade this piano for anything as it holds way too many special memories for me. It's not about the material thing, it's about the memories BUT as long as I have it, I'm going to take good care of it. When I sit behind it I feel such a security and joy. Part of it is I still so love playing it but most of it is that I can relive those wonderful memories of childhood. Now I can share that with my precious husband and daughter. I can think of nothing more fun than sitting on that piano bench with Hattie between Trey and me and playing away. Trey plays the bass and I the treble. Hattie, well, Hattie will grow into it. Maybe I need to get GranGee/Mom to teach her the knuckle roll song with the same enthusiasm she must have shared with me. And the beat goes on.

-Kristin

GEORGE:

Way to rat me out Kristin! No, I knew she knew where I hid them. In retrospect, I should have just hid them under my bed or anywhere else in my room rather than such a public and high-traffic area like the living room. Oh well, I guess I kind of thought I was being super sneaky or clever. I even rigged up a little holster in there that would prevent them from falling. Ha! Well, we all know who bought me my first CARTON of cigarettes! That's right.

Unlike Kristin, I enjoyed working on my dance moves rather than wasting time on the piano. The dance moves I learned from "I am a clown" have gotten where I am today. If you imagine a gingerbread man moving from side to side then you pretty much have got that dance down. Kristin would encourage the dancing and would always get such a big kick out of it. I'm really not sure how both of us didn't go crazy listening to that song though. I mean, the song and lyrics are fiercely repetitive.

While I'm writing this I can clearly remember watching Kristin over all the pictures on the piano to make sure she was watching my moves. I usually needed her approval.
Some of my earliest memories of Kristin playing the piano all include that song. On a typical day, she would be in there banging around on the keys; stopping regularly and saying sorry like there was a huge audience. I would start sneaking into the living room from the door to the den in hopes of a big foot-grabbing surprise. It would usually work, but sometimes I would hear her calmly say "Geoooooorge" in her monotone I-just-caught-you voice. She still does that by that way. I had to move to Korea to get away from it.

It was a great piano. Not because I can play it at all, but because Kristin and I built some fun memories around it.