Piano Camp, the Original

Though Ohio welcomed us, Harrisburg is where our roots lie.  Piano Camp has for many years been a Harrisburgian tradition of Kristen and mine, and a year off last year led us to say:
We need to go back.

Hence:

The best week of your life, indeed.

A return to this beauty of a piano

in this beauty of a room caused my soul to pause in gratitude,

and a return to the riverside was a welcome lunchtime retreat.

A return to Neato Burrito

 filled me with feelings of restoration-of-order-to-the-world,

even if we were there to work 

[even if we felt a little grumpy about it.]

Work, however, is just a part of the return to Piano Camp fun, without which we would not feel nearly as fulfilled as we do, changing lives and all.  

 Master Classes may be work--as I insist to them in my thick Russian accent and wildly waving arms that if they do not observe the dynamic markings I have written in for them I will lay down on the floor and cry--but it is also fun to watch their eyes grow big, as they try to figure out if I am serious or not.
[Try me dude, I'm serious.]

 Duet Coachings may be work--as Kristen pleas with those darlings to count, to listen, to play the piano with some level of thoughtfulness for goodness sake!--but when they achieve a perfect ensemble at the Friday recital we cheer and holler with a satisfaction like no other.

 Technique Demonstrations involve work too--as we push and prod and give minimal reassurances that if they actually take a moment to think about how they are sitting we will allow them a small measure of peace--but when their body and hand positions change by the end of the week and we see healthy technique working into their minds, we breathe a sigh of [shoulder balancing over rib-cage] relief, and are pleased.

Composition Time can be work--as I try to figure out how to actually get the headphones to work--but when those creative ones share with us their final products, we cannot help but shake our heads in amazement at all they have to offer.   

And then, there's Discussion time, when we talk about
ourselves as musicians and pianists

in relation to what makes music musical--involving the work of keeping those beasts engaged via a wide variety of pony tricks, which, at the end of the day, we all find to be quite ridiculous in the best kind of way.  

.

Now, in case you think that underpants are part of the pony tricks, allow me to suggest to you that  Harrisburgian Piano Camp would not be Piano Camp without a little healthy pranking.

Yes--pranked we may have been, but defeated we were not.

Instead,

we set the children loose.

(The art of subtle suggestion is 

just a part of a day's work, indeed.)

Hence, our dear Mrs. Noll returned to her desk one day

to find it draped and covered; 

in turn, she came to find us--

draped and covered.

We laughed, as only Mrs. Noll can make us laugh.  

The children's eyes shone in adoration of it all.

You see, just as much as the work and the fun, adoration is a large part of piano camping experience.  

For instance, in Friday's Olympic Games, the Piano Camp Rap Competition resulted in loving statements such as:

Miss Kristen and Miss Lauren share a brain, 

and they are both very insane.

[We work hard for this reputation.]

Another camper told her mother 

"It's just like going to Hershey Park! It's so fun!"

[Yes darling baby, we know.]

Other parents told us Piano Camp is one child's "favorite part of her whole life!", and that we inspire another child to whole other levels of piano playing in one short week.

[Short week? Where?]

Personally, I think it's the Jeopardy that does it,

 where Kristen and I ply them with tough problems,

 where they battle out their victory,

where I get personally aggrieved at their defeat,

and where the prizes remind them that Miss Kristen is crazier than I.  [Really--who ever heard of turning an entire gang of children into brainwashed followers of something as ridiculous as 'Worm Nation'?].

Whatever it is,

 the work, the fun, the adoration,

or just the beauty of watching these little souls unfold,

Kristen and I say: We'll be back!

Because it's one of the best weeks of our lives too.

Piano Camp I

If you were to spend any time at all at Piano Camp,

you would observe one or both of these things:

1) Kristen and I being brilliant.  

2) Kristen and I talking about how brilliant we are.  

This year, we decided more of the United States of America needed to benefit from all we had to offer them, and so we gathered a few piano playing kiddos in Kristen's new hometown, and:

changed their lives.

Being brilliant is not an easy job, just in case you were wondering.  Piano Camp days are typically spent pulling out our hair,

refraining from pulling out theirs.

The days are long, you see, as we herd children from one place to the next, exerting massive units of energy in order to convince them they can actually be expressive pianists, selling our very souls in order to retrieve from them the sound we want, the musical thinking we expect.

Our evenings, by necessity then, are spent in other important piano camp activities.

First, we engage in extreme competition 

(some of us more than others.)

Then,

 there is the consumption of excellent food,

such as these sweet potato and beet gnocchi.

(The benefit of being in Kristen's home was that we could also test the experimental wedding cake she had to make,

which we did not mind.)

Brilliance requires investment of course, so our evenings also involve a bit of work.  This year, however, we got a bit distracted when we were inexplicably joined by some random neighborhood animals,

 such as this weird little dog who established himself our guard.

After he wandered away (on his bizarrely short and stubby legs),

 this sweet little kitten

 hopped up in my lap,

 hopped down off my lap,

 went to check out Kristen,

 and wormed her way into our hearts.

(Her full-body-plants onto the nearest tree helped our general assessment of her all-over cuteness.)

When the bugs drove us inside,

 Ben treated us to some ridiculously delicious homemade ice cream, which--

after Kristen looked at the work before us in conjunction with the clock on the wall and cried in her most distressed voice, "how did this happen"?--

we finished off with more cake.

By the end of the week, however, our work was done;

and our brilliance paid off.

Those darlings played the piano like the little pianists we knew them to be, and brought us to fits of applause.

Following the closing recital we shook the hands of the parents, we rejoiced over high points of each child's playing.  Then, we packed it all up and reminded ourselves:

Next week?  We get to be brilliant all over again.  

See you in Harrisburg!

I just can't seem to help it: Celebration

[And now, a review of all of the things I didn't have time to blog about during dissertation revision season...Part 3]

I'm not sure if you know how I feel about birthdays, so let me just say: I think they're a crucial part of living life.  Birthdays are evidence that life is meant to be lived, after all, and--during the years when living my life felt like a daily decision to be made--my birthday became a means of declaring:
I'm here, and I will not give up. 

Hence, now, when each new one rolls around,
I stand up and shout: CELEBRATE!

Except, this year, I was swamped. [Revisions].  And, I was feeling a bit over indulged, as this is a year of massive celebration [Dissertation Done.  Graduation.  Etc.]

So, I said: We don't need to celebrate, let's just keep it small.

Feeling so subdued, so mature.

But then, as I sat at my dining room table on my birthday eve, revisions laying all around me,
I found myself staring into this box,

sent full of goodies from my mom & dad.

And, before I knew what was happening, birthday joy started to creep up, calling to that hidden place inside of me that was trying to pretend it didn't exist...

Which may explain why--when the morning rolled around--I found myself serenading myself in the company of a few sleepy friends in the darkness of the pre-dawn day.  

No use in denying it I figured, 

but still--we were keeping it under wraps.

Until, we arrived at breakfast, 

the secret leaked, and the next thing I knew--

there I was, giggling in delight,

blowing out my birthday cinnamon roll,

as my dear ones looked on [including this friend, who just so happened to be there for a breakfast of his own.] 

My next small celebration
involved quality time with these lovelies, 

before walking around Arts Fest (held in State College every year in honor of my birthday, which I probably shouldn't mention, since I'm keeping things low-key and all...), together.

The day glided sweetly by, with only minor explosions regarding my love of all things birthday.

 Next thing I knew though,
I was wafting through Wegmans with a trail of friends behind me,

gathering my favorite foods for a birthday picnic

and a concert on the lawn.

We lounged,

we ate our yummies.

We laughed and just enjoyed the aura of the evening.

I gobbled up my birthday cookies,

and reflected quietly in my heart at the gift of such good friends.

 [My cup is not just filled,

but full.]

Then, the concert over and our picnic complete,

we spontaneously raced across town to the movie theater, meeting up with some other late night friends.
We settled into our seats,
and proceeded to laugh until the stroke of midnight.

I then returned home,
birthday joy bubbling over and around a day full of good.

The next morning, however,
I discovered that the celebrations were not over.

 These two darling housemates
arrived in my room with treats galore,
singing Happy Birthday

and spoiling me completely.

 Dropping decadence into my lap,

 they gathered their own,

and hopped up on my bed for

a good old birthday chat.

I might not have requested a celebration,
but a celebration is what I got.

A birthday, celebrated well; a life, well lived.

Spoiled I am, and grateful.