My mother’s mother passed away when I was just a baby. Although I “met” her, I never knew her. My one memory regarding her was her jewelry box that my mother brought home. When my grandfather passed away, my mother and her siblings set to the unhappy task of divvying up the parent’s stuff. We got a dining room table, a hutch, and some other odds and ends. I think the dining room table went to my sister after she married, and I believe it’s gone to Goodwill now, after years of use made the chairs a bit too wobbly. I don’t know what happened to the rest of the stuff that we collected, but I do remember the jewelry box. I used to spend hours going through it, trying on the pearl necklaces and clip on earrings. There was nothing of value, just costume jewelry, but I enjoyed opening it up and revealing it’s treasures. My mom would tell me about when her mother would wear each piece, and I would peer at my reflection in the tiny mirror, gazing at the baubles hanging from my earlobes.

This was my memory of my grandmother. I made my mom promise that I would get the jewelry box when I moved out. Sadly, that never happened, as an unfortunate break into our house years ago resulted in the loss of the jewelry box, as well as some other items. I guess the thieves thought they would get some money from it. All they stole was memories. I still miss that box.

Although I never did get that jewelry box, I did get inherit a different memory from a different grandparent. My father’s parents passed away within a year of each other, and my family made the trek out to New Mexico for his service and to help with the task of cleaning up his house. After days of shredding papers, my sister and I glared at our parents and told them they’d better start cleaning up now, cause we didn’t want to do this with them. But we had a good time going through the house and deciding who would receive what pieces. Since I had no house, I didn’t really get much. My parents said I could pick out some things and they would keep it in their house for the time being. I did pick out one of the pictures that was left that nobody wanted. It looked kind of pathetic in it’s worn out frame, but I kind of liked it. It was a scenic picture of a beach. My uncle took it with him to reframe it. He does framing on the side, and when he returned it to us, everyone was impressed with it and made comments like, “We should have taken that one!” It hung in my room at my parent’s for a couple years, until they moved. I think it’s in their house now. Hmmm… maybe I should reclaim that.

Anyway, that’s not the object that I received that stuck out to me. While cleaning, we ran across some boxes filled with sheet music, CDs, and Gramp’s old clarinet. We stood around, scratching our heads, wondering what to do with it. I imagine all eyes shifted to me, as I’m the only musical one in the family. There’s been a joke in our family that my musical talent must have skipped a generation. So, because there was nothing better to do with it, the sheet music went to me. I also received some of the CDs, many of which were Big Band CDs and have since become some of my favorites.

I was intrigued with the sheet music. I believe that at the time, I was in the middle of my pursuit of a music degree at Florida State. I looked through all of it, mostly piano music, and wished I could play it. My grandfather had purchased a keyboard recently and had spent a lot of time playing on it. I think that’s how he spent most of his time once my grandmother’s Alzheimers grew worse and she moved to the nursing home. One of his favorite pieces was The Entertainer by Scott Joplin.

I remember going to visit my grandmother in the nursing home a couple years before she died. She walked into the room and I didn’t recognize her. I knew a little about the awful disease, but I was shocked that something could take away so much of the well dressed, refined, smiling, joyful Granny I used to know. It scared me. My most vivid memory from that day was when Gramps went to the piano and began to play. I think he played The Entertainer. Granny smiled and tapped along with the music. When Gramps slowed the tempo, her foot slowed too. She never missed a beat. I think this was my first experience with the power of music.

Years later, I’m done with my music degree, and settled into a place of my own with a husband by my side. The box of sheet music got shoved to the back of my closet and was moved back and forth until I settled into my current home. This past year, I started a job at a retirement community, in the activities department. One of the things I’m in “charge” of is music. I do a bell choir once a week and once a month I lead sing-a-longs. I’m trying to learn more of this generation’s music, and have been hunting for sheet music and guitar chords for much of it.

Recently I remembered that box. So today I pulled it out and rifled through it, dusting off songbooks. Although there’s still a lot of piano music that I can’t quite play, I discovered a lot of songs in that box. Songs that I should learn and eventually perform for my residents. There were lots of photocopied pieces, and many issues of Sheet Music Magazine. Who knew there was such a publication! I found all kinds of goodies that I can make use of in my new occupation. I sifted through classical pieces, show tunes, Christmas music, and all sorts of others.

I also discovered some handwritten scores. They were pieces that my grandfather had painstakingly transcribed by hand.

Lots of painstaking work

I don’t know why he felt the need to rewrite pieces that he probably already had printed copies of. Perhaps he was trying to preserve certain pieces while getting rid of certain issues of Sheet Music Magazine, to cut back on some clutter. Perhaps he wanted to internalize the music more, becoming more familiar with each note, as a five year old will print their letters over and over to learn them better.

One of his clarinet pieces

I remember being in Spanish classes and having to write sentences over and over to try to internalize the words and the language. Perhaps my grandfather wanted to know this music on a deeper level. Maybe he was just bored. Whatever his reason, I found hand written copies of Bach’s Prelude in C Major,

Bach's prelude in C Major

Begin the Beguine by Cole Porter, and Send in the Clowns (this one had a big penciled X through the music. I had to smile at that, wondering why he felt the need to cross out all his work.)

So although I couldn’t keep my grandmother’s legacy of her jewelry box, I’m honored that I was able to keep the musical legacy of my grandfather. And tickled that I get to use a lot of it now! I’m sure I couldn’t have found half of these songs if I’d googled for months.

Thanks for the help, Gramps.