A Piano = A Happy Family

The piano is a musical instrument in which felt-covered hammers, operated from a keyboard, strike the metal strings. It was a variation of the harpsichord and was invented in the 1700s in Italy. Its history is interesting, but to me it exemplifies art, music, literature and grace. It is a symbol of refinement and elegance.

My maternal grandfather Peter Hendrickson was from a well-to-do family in Denmark. He was a talented artist and won a gold watch in an art contest, which displeased his father who felt art was a foolish hobby. However, when Peter joined the Mormon Church, which was very unpopular, that was unforgivable. Peter left Denmark and went to America.

Peter did not make a lot of money in America, although he was attractive and very popular. He writes in his journal:  

Peter Hendrickson

“Now I was in the thirties and for means could marry anytime, when another woman came into my life . . .  As I was in doubt about this woman, if she were the one I had been waiting for to this time, I decided to ask the Lord, and it was shown me in a dream, in such a way that there could be no mistake.  The right one had come.  It was her or no other.  My dream was:  I found myself standing just inside of a large room.  On the opposite wall were two large pictures covering the whole wall from floor to ceiling.  The one picture represented a happy family.  Around a table was seated a mother with seven or eight children, all busy sewing, reading, and conversing.  Looking at the other picture, I saw standing, a lone man, a bachelor, a likeness of which I, a few years previous, had seen in a stage play, ‘Sowing the Wind.’  As I looked from one picture to the other, I noticed a person standing by my side who addressed me saying, ‘Choose for yourself,’ and the dream was over.  I understood the dream. We were married shortly after, [and] I could see I had got the right one.  A number of years after, I could daily see a picture like the one on the wall, a mother and children.” 

In their family life, one of the most important things was a piano. My Aunt Ruth said that in the early years of their marriage, even before they had a piano, they had a cardboard keyboard where they taught their young children how to play the piano. Although as immigrants with ten children and very little money, the arts, including playing the piano, was an essential part of their lives. Their family life surrounded the piano where they played it and sang around it, and it echoed their love of music and their faith.

In my family, the piano played a very central role also. My mother played the piano and we often sang as a family around it. I loved the sheet music that she had that went back to the 1920s and also included current songs such as “That Doggie in the Window,” and “Che Sera Sera.” We also had a canary that warbled when we sang or when we played the piano.

My mother felt that developing our talents was very important and encouraged us all to play the piano, or if that was not our choice, to dance or paint. My younger sister, Coleen, played the piano, but I chose dancing lessons. We were not well to do, so my mother, who was a gifted artist, traded her paintings for lessons. After my mother died, Coleen made sure that my younger sister, Janet, went to piano lessons and my youngest brother, Will, got tap-dancing lessons. Janet hated piano lessons and often skipped out on them and eventually quit. 

After I had children, having a piano became a priority to me. I wanted to make sure my children could play the piano as my mother and sister had. In 1973 we were living in El Paso and I discovered a neighbor who had a piano for sale. It was an antique upright piano which had once been painted bright pink and resided in a rowdy saloon. The people who were selling it had stripped it, completely redone the wires and transformed it; it was now a sedate rehabilitated brown. We bought it; because it was so large we had to roll it home.

After we purchased this piano, I decided that I was going to learn to play the piano myself. I took piano lessons for a few years and I practiced diligently. I learned to sight-read, but I struggled to learn the rhythm. My great accomplishment was to play “Silent Night.” Finally I realized I did not enjoy playing the piano; I was determined to learn to play it because I “should” be able to play it—to be more like my mother and accompany my family while they sang. At that point I decided to give it up. I am grateful I learned to sight-read music and could help my children with their lessons; but at heart, I still love to dance more than play the piano.

For a long time a part of me felt I had let my family down because I couldn’t play the piano. When Diana or Bryan were competing in vocal competitions, and had to get someone to accompany them, I would sit in the audience thinking, “I should have learned to play the piano so I could accompany her/him.” But in my heart I knew it wasn’t possible! It was an impossible, impractical idea. I wasn’t a pianist and didn’t really want to be—except to fulfill an unrealistic expectation.

Marlowe In Christmas Carol

However, the reformed piano we purchased in El Paso became our friend and companion for over 26 years. We moved it all over the country. In moving to Hawaii a forklift sheared off the top of the pallet and barely missed our piano! Then we had to have a heater installed in it to keep it from molding because of the high humidity in Hilo! It sailed with us to Italy and back without a scratch, but in our 100-year-old house at Ft. Sheridan, they couldn’t get it up the stairs, so it sat in the entryway on the first floor, and whenever the children practiced the piano, the people in the other side of the duplex could hear them. It followed us all over the world and then home to Utah. I don’t know which astonished it the most, our children’s raucous practice or its wandering since it had left its saloon in El Paso.

It enjoyed Athena’s diligent practicing, Marc’s never practicing, Diana’s talented playing and Bryan’s trying to practice. Athena has continued playing the piano. In Italy she played the piano for church; she has played piano for primary and for her own enjoyment. All of her children take piano lessons. 

Although Marlowe never took piano lessons (he played the trumpet, both marching band and jazz band), he can play the piano some. His daughter is taking piano lessons, and I’m sure his children will continue to take lessons and play very well.

That piano has heard more musical theater than any other genre; probably because four of our five children have performed primarily in musical theater. I couldn’t begin to list all the shows they have been in and practiced on that old upright—in Alabama, Italy, Chicago, and in Utah.

Diana

Athena and Diana were always playing while we sang around the piano; when the children were around the piano, it just rang with song--I doubt if it had more of a workout when it was in that old El Paso saloon. Diana taught voice lessons on it, and I loved to hear her sing day and night while she was at home. One of the things I miss the most now she is gone, is listening to her singing.

Diana is the most accomplished pianist in the family. While studying voice at Berkley College of Music she also took piano lessons. Since living in Chicago, Diana has taken organ lessons and has played the organ for church and she now teaches piano lessons.

A few years after we moved into our home in Utah, Ed’s mother gave us her nice new piano (for Diana to use) and we finally sold our old antique upright piano. Although we still use Grandma’s piano, it will eventually go to Diana. However, since Diana teaches piano lessons and sings with a singing group in Chicago, she has purchased a piano.

However, whenever I think of Diana’s talent, I know that she will eventually have a grand piano because her talent is a “grand piano talent.”

A piano is a symbol of refinement and elegance. Even though my grandparents and parents were poor, they felt that a piano was well-worth sacrificing for. They played it and wanted their children to play it. Even though I can’t play the piano, Ed and I felt that it is an essential part of our home, and we wanted our children to have the opportunity to play it. A piano is more than just a musical instrument. To me it was like the picture my grandfather had seen in his vision more than 115 years earlier of a happy family. . . “all busy sewing, reading, and conversing.” . . . and playing the piano. 

“The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air.”

~Kenneth Miller

My Father’s Legacy

My father was an ordinary, blue-collar man. He never accumulated great wealth, or served as president of an organization, auxiliary or club. He never wrote a book, invented a new machine, won war medals, or did anything to make him well known or famous. When he died, there were no buildings or streets named after him, no colleges endowed by him, or long obituaries written for him. What legacy did he leave for his children? He left a legacy of a strong work ethic, a willingness to help others, a love of learning, loving support, and a testimony of Christ.

When I was young, I never realized my father had a testimony, because it was hard for him to show it. I assumed he believed in the gospel because he always took us to Church. However, because he was Fay 1957 shy or whatever—I don’t know why—he never blessed, baptized, confirmed, or ordained any of us older children. He did participate in priesthood confirmations and ordinations, so I never felt deprived. That was just how it was. Looking back, I never recall a time when he gave me a father’s blessing during my early years, but maybe I never asked him for one.

I never saw my father gradually take on the mantle of noble patriarch of his family, because after I married, my husband’s work took me far from my childhood home. Even after my mother’s death, as Dad remarried and reared a second family, I was never around to see him magnify his priesthood.


My sister was more fortunate because she lived only a couple of miles from Dad. It was Dad who blessed and named her first son, who helped ordain her husband to the Melchizedek Priesthood, and who participated in all of her sons’ ordinations. He came to their Family Home Evenings and always participated. She recalls that every Christmas Dad would tell of his love of Heavenly Father.

It was 25 years later, when we moved back in my home state with children of our own, that I realized what a strong family leader my father had become. He participated in every ordinance that his many children and grandchildren received. He helped give my children and grandchildren priesthood blessings, and I received several very special father’s blessings that I will never forget. He went to the temple with each prospective missionary, and sat in the special place of honor at their weddings.

It was in May of 1998 that I first heard my father bear his testimony. He had helped name and bless a nephew’s newest baby, and afterwards he stood in the fast and testimony meeting and bore a simple, heartfelt testimony.

“So many of my family are here today, that I can’t let this opportunity pass without letting them know I have a testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel,” my father said gripping his canes to keep his balance. “I love the Savior. I know he hears and answers our prayers. I know that we have a prophet at the head of this Church.”

My brothers and sisters and I looked at each other in amazement, because although we had assumed our father had a testimony, we had never heard him bear it before. How grateful we were for that treasured testimony, because soon afterwards he suffered a massive heart attack and never had the opportunity to bear his testimony in public again.




Although my father had difficulty expressing his testimony, his life was a testament of his concern and love for others. He was always the first to help someone in need, to mow someone’s lawn, or fix someone’s car. He shared the bounty of his gardens with everyone.

My father was always intrigued by technology and progress. I recall that we had one of the first television sets in 1950 before there were many channels or shows broadcast. He never lost that enthusiasm for learning new things, and in his 80s, he embraced computers, e-mail, and scanners. I’ll never forget his words in the Intensive Care unit, “I can’t die yet. I haven’t learned how to use my scanner yet.”

My father attended all of our activities and those of our children. He sat through countless recitals, concerts, plays, and games as he cheered his posterity on, and took us out for ice cream afterwards.

Like many of his generation, he was a hard-working man, who expected us to carry our own loads. But, even as he taught us to work hard, he helped us realize how exciting work and training can be.

Although my father found it difficult to express his love when we were young, he more than made up for it telling us how much he loved us in his later years. We never left his home, but that he said, “I love you and appreciate all you’ve done for me.” You knew it wasn’t ritual or meaningless phrases, but came from his heart.

Although his faith was a quiet, unspoken kind, he demonstrated it in countless ways. I recall a time when I was living in Hawaii and had to have a biopsy of my breast. Because my mother had died of breast cancer, everyone was very worried. My father organized a special family fast, and gathered everyone together afterwards for a special family prayer. I wasn’t aware of the fast, but half a world away, I felt the effect of their father and prayers, when I had a special answer—I felt a peace enfold me that helped me face the challenges ahead. It was a real demonstration to me of my father’s and my family’s faith.

Faith cannot be weighed on a mortal scale. Nor can the value of a father’s example be counted in coin or currency. The worth of a life is not always reflected in the number of scholarships endowed, or buildings bearing one’s name. It may not even be measured by the length of a man’s obituary.

Sometimes a man’s legacy is reflected only obliquely through his posterity’s faith, lives and testimonies.

Family Gatherings

"In the end, life teaches us what is important, and that is family." -Stephen Covey

I dreamed last night of a family gathering in my youth. There were aunts and

uncles, cousins, my parents and my siblings. We were laughing and talking and I felt such a warmth and love and sense of belonging. I know why I dreamed such a dream; This past week we have had my daughter and son-in-law here from Chicago to seal their adopted son in the temple and have him blessed and given a name in church. All of my children were here for this special occasion, as well as most of their children, many of my siblings, cousins, and other family. In fact during the blessing ceremony, the chapel was completely filled with family and friends.

Family gatherings during special occasions, weddings, christenings, funerals, Thanksgivings, Christmases, Easters, and many other holidays may be a common occurrence, but it is also an important binding experience. It is the glue that holds families together from generation to generation. Someone said, “Families that play together stay together, especially when their play is uplifting and wholesome. Family vacations, holidays, birthday celebrations, and other activities build strong bonds and feelings of self-worth. The phrase “Remember when we…” is sure to bring love and laughter in the years to come.” –Unknown

I remember my family gatherings when I was a child. I recall getting together with my cousins on both sides of my family—I even remember going to stay with my cousin in Brigham City. After my mother died when I was 20 years old, it was her sister, my Aunt Ruth, who was the link to her family, who kept us close to her family. It is because of Aunt Ruth that I am still close to my cousins, Elaine and Cindy, and their brothers, and that I contacted my cousin Jean Hendrickson Fisher when we lived near each other in Omaha, Nebraska. Family is essential to me.

My father’s family was closer, both because my father was alive to associate with them, and because they lived nearby. There were cousins near my age that I was friends with, and my father’s family had family reunions. I recall my parents getting together with his cousins and having parties and having fun.

I have tried to replicate extended family gatherings for my own although it was a challenge while we were in the military and far from family for most of the older children’s lives. They did not have a tradition of getting together with cousins or aunts and uncles because there were none close to us. However, since we moved to Utah 21 years ago, we have tried to be very involved with our extended families. That was the reason I was so determined to move back to Utah when we retired.

Maybe because our nuclear family was so isolated in the military, we had to depend on each other so much. Just as our children have supported each other by attending each other’s school activities when they were younger, whether it was sports or theater, they have continued to support each other by attending each others’ weddings, the baptisms of their children, or in the case of the past week, the sealing of baby Aiden to Diana and Jason.

They have also tried to get together with each other at the cabin near Yellowstone Park (that belongs to Athena’s husband’s family), or at our house such as when we got back from California, or at least once a year or two. They do this despite the fact that they are living throughout the country and it involves flying great distances and making sacrifices in time and work.

Our family activities have changed through the years. I remember that years ago when they were mostly young adults, they always used to go to movies after Thanksgiving dinner or at family gatherings.

Then they used to play board games until late in the night long after the “old folks” and “little ones” went to bed. We have often gone bowling. This is something every one of all ages could enjoy.

This past weekend when all were gathered at our house, we played participation games—adults, young adults, teens, children and even little ones. It was quite funny to see us gathered in teams, with older ones helping younger ones play “Taboo” and do the challenge and pass out and pay the penalties. It wasn’t as sophisticated as if it were only adults, but the children enjoyed seeing Papa having his wrists “velcroed to his head,” Uncle Bryan having to play an air guitar every time a bell sounded and 12-year-old Jenni having to quack before she could talk. But hopefully someday they will have their own families and remember what they did when they gathered with their extended family. Then they will tell their children, “When I was your age and went to Grandpa’s house, we . . . ."