Throughout my childhood years I was expected to attend church on Sundays with my family. Both of my parents were brought up in the Catholic tradition and they too believed it was an important tradition to pass on to their children.
The organist who played on Sundays, Mr. McMurray, who was first a trumpeter, was well aware of my ability to play the piano. He arranged a meeting so that he could begin to teach me the organ. Mr. McMurray said there will come a time when he will no longer be able to be the organist for Ascension and that it was important to choose an appropriate successor. Though I was not extremely interested in being named the church's next successor to the organ I proceeded to humor him.
He sat me down in front of the organ, which was an entirely new perspective as I had always seen it from the rear. I was astonished by the makeup of the instrument not only were there two set of parallels keys for the hands, but there also was a large set of keys used by the feet. Once situated, we both quickly realized that because of my young age and lack of full physical development reaching the keys exclusively for the feet were quite a stretch.
Organ lessons did not last long between the combination of frustration caused by my inability to reach all the foot pedals keys and my ongoing struggle to do more than one thing at once. Mr. McMurray eventually accepted that he need not force something that was not meant to be, however he was a determined man, looking to somehow find use of my musical abilities.
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