There's a lovely stand-up piano in one of the classrooms at my school. Occasionally, late in the day, I might sit and mess around with whatever I might be working on. This piano has better action than mine at home -- though I love my piano -- so it's fun to try out little bluesy fills in songs with a lot of space like Gershwin's "Our Love Is Here to Stay" or the old spiritual "Motherless Child."
Well, recently, I'd been playing and didn't notice several girls standing at the door listening and when I did notice, I stopped, embarrassed by the prospect.
"No, keep playing!" one said.
Pleased, I asked if she liked what she heard.
"Oh, yes," she assured me. "It makes me feel like I'm at Nordstrom's." She seemed so pleased to extend what she perceived as a compliment.
I smiled and thanked her. But in my heart, I had her killed.
And then it occurred to me that the piano could be a potential friend litmus test. I should play for everyone with whom I might strike up a friendship and if my prospect hears "Easy Listening Dentist Office Pablum" then, well, I'll have nothing more to do with him or her. But if they hear bluesy mistake prone beat challenged edgy jazzster, then we can hang.
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