When I was a girl, my greatest desire was to study music; but I was the fourth of six children, born to a poor country preacher, whose meager salary barely supplied the actual necessities of life. My eldest sister, who had been given lessons for a few years, taught me the lines and spaces; and afterward my mother sold chickens and paid an instructor to teach me for six months. That was all the training I had before I was married.
My husband was also musical, but had never had a music lesson. So we decided to see what we could do, he with the violin, and I with the piano.
We studied under good teachers for three years, then kept up our practice at regular intervals. I do my own cooking and housework. We have one child of our own, and have had two orphans and a niece living with us for the greater part of the time, so I was busy. But after the day's work was done, the evening was spent in practicing. To be sure, it was an arduous task, but we kept at it.
Now when we tune in on artists playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, or compositions by Schubert, Handel, Mozart, or other great composers, we appreciate their mastery of passages over which we have spent many laborious but happy hours.
We play regularly for church, and are frequently invited to play for weddings and social functions. We feel that our lives have been greatly enriched, and that our twenty years together have been much sweeter because of our music.