Not About Me
Posted on January 27, 2023 by Jim Ross
When I was a kid, I took accordion lessons in my bedroom. Every Thursday, my teacher faced me as I played last week鈥檚 assignment, heard his critique, tried to play it slightly better, got a new piece to practice over the coming week, and took a stab at the newly-assigned piece so he could issue warnings about where I鈥檇 likely go astray. Occasionally, he鈥檇 snatch my accordion away to show how a piece was supposed to be played.
One day, he stood as my lesson began and said: 鈥淵ou have no talent whatsoever. You never practice enough. You鈥檒l never make anything of yourself. I can鈥檛 waste any more time trying to teach someone thoroughly lacking in commitment.鈥� Speaking in a monotone, he didn鈥檛 sound angry. His face was pale, his blond hair disheveled, his keyboard hand shook, sweat ran from his forehead, and a tear streamed from his right eye. When he finished, he inadvertently knocked my music stand over, tore down the stairs, threw open the front door, ran toward his yellow-green Buick, and made his getaway.
My teacher had been a household fixture. Mom told me to call him Uncle Sam. Four years earlier, he had begun teaching Mom piano lessons in the living room. A few months after starting lessons, Mom鈥檚 car was t-boned and she had a late-second-trimester miscarriage. Sam began coming by to check up on Mom鈥檚 welfare. After Dad returned to work, Uncle Sam鈥擲am the Englishman鈥攌ept coming by.
Mom quickly became pregnant again. Dad and Mom鈥攖hen five months pregnant鈥攔an off on a ten-day vacation with Sam and his wife Elaine, whom we didn鈥檛 dare call 鈥淎unt.鈥� Sam stopped by for coffee and crumb cake at least once weekly in addition to the two visits for Mom鈥檚 piano and my accordion lessons. After Mom gave birth, Sam was coming by the house three to four times a week, even when Mom took a break from lessons. If he came by in the afternoon, they sipped tea with cream and shared sandwiches. Six months later, the foursome began going out to local hot spots for dinner and dancing. Eventually, Sam was stopping by at least five days a week. It seemed the friendship between the two families knew no bounds.
Then Sam鈥檚 mum and dad, Lily and John, arrived from England for an extended visit with the possibility of again making the United States their home. They had lived in the States for the duration of World War II, but had returned to England in 1947, and a few years later moved into Devizes Castle. Sam and their other two children had all been born in Devizes. Mom claimed they had an inheritable right to occupy the castle as 鈥渕inor league royalty,鈥� but it 鈥渃ame with no stipend and upkeep was horrendous.鈥� They lived in a five-room flat next to the chapel.
Mom glommed onto Lily and John like butter to hot crumb cake. They often invited Mom over for lunch at Sam and Elaine鈥檚. To add a second kitchen at Sam and Elaine鈥檚, Lily and John dug deep into their pockets. Then something went awry. They hastily arranged for passage back to England. Mom became uncharacteristically quiet. Sam cut back his visits to once a week in addition to my lesson day. Then one day Sam the Englishman fired me. He ceased coming by. A cold chill fell on our household. I felt bad about disappointing Sam and thought my being a poor student had driven him away.
Forty years later, my eyes opened. After Mom鈥檚 stroke, my daughter found a metal box containing 22 letters from Lily and John. The first few were sent from Devizes castle. One contained a castle postcard with arrows designating Lily鈥檚 and John鈥檚 flat. I recognized the postcard. Several letters came from the town of Devizes after they moved out of the castle. The last several letters came from California, where their other two children lived.
The letters showed that Lily and John had adopted Mom as their refined American daughter. Letters to Mom signed 鈥淢amsy and Daddy鈥� told Mom, 鈥淵ou are in our thoughts more than words can convey.鈥� Lily repeatedly told Mom that my Dad was a 鈥渟table, dependable man of great character,鈥� whereas Sam was 鈥済utless and lacked the courage to tell his Virago of a wife that he got to choose his friends, not her.鈥� They claimed, 鈥淓laine blocked Sam鈥檚 efforts to communicate with us, going so far as intercepting and destroying our letters.鈥� However, 鈥淪am never stood up for himself and allows Elaine to control him.鈥� Bottom line: 鈥淜now we still love you,鈥� but 鈥淔orget our son, Sam.鈥�
In letter #4, Lily wrote, 鈥淣eed I add we have never forgotten the way Sam declined to go on teaching your son only because he was ordered to do so by a very sad case of a woman whose word is law. Only a weakling like Sam would succumb to dictation from such a source.鈥�
As time passed, John wrote more, often finishing letters Lily began. John frequently asked Mom to pass messages, 鈥渋f your path happens to cross with Sam鈥檚鈥� or 鈥渋f you happen to know somebody who knows him.鈥� Anticipating their return to the States, John asked Sam to meet them at Penn Station. After arriving in California by train, John reported on their meeting with Sam: 鈥淵ou may rest assured, Sammy loves his friends and has never for one moment changed toward them.鈥�
To my knowledge, I鈥檓 the only one other than Mom who read the 22 letters. Forty years after the fact, I learned Sam didn鈥檛 dump me because I was awful and had no talent. Firing me was one of Elaine鈥檚 explicit demands. Mom was the one getting dumped; I merely got hit with flying shrapnel. What if Sam didn鈥檛 believe a word he said when he fired me? What if his tear was real? Maybe he shed more of them. Regardless, it wasn鈥檛 about me. It never was.