During the
Depression, at great financial sacrifice, my parents bought a piano for my twin
sister and me and arranged for lessons.
For many years, Mom and Dad glowed with pride as their little twins
played duets at various community functions.
Some 30
years later, Dad came over for dinner, and asked me to play the piano. Warning that I hadn’t touched the keyboard in
a long time, I consented. As I played, I
noticed tears running down Dad’s cheek.
I turned to him and said, “Was it that good, Dad?”
He sadly
shook his head and replied, “All that money, shot to hell.”
-Alice
Wolfe Reimche
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