On a June morning in my tiny town in New York’s North Country, Mrs. Ryan’s kindergarten class was preparing for our upcoming graduation. Parents had gotten invitations; our caps and gowns were on order.We practiced the songs and poems we were to sing together. In my eyes, a few fortunate children had solos, which they had brought home to memorize. 

For the next two days, my mother patiently worked with me to memorize the piece. I honestly don’t remember the name of the poem or the words, but the short verse talked about being ‘little’ and ‘big’ and ‘growing up.’ (If any of you have a  copy of this poem, please send my way!)

Recently, I felt I was reliving my first public performance 66 years ago when I  volunteered again to fill in with a mere 48 hours to learn my part.

A few days before Rosh Hashanah, Larry and I had run into Susan and Jonathan Shopiro, fellow members of Congregation Shalom Aleichem. Both talented musicians,  they both had sung in both secular and synagogue choirs. Jonathan, a competent flute player,  had regularly played with our previous rabbi at temple services. Susan is an accomplished violinist who had recently inherited her grandfather’s fine century old violin. 

In the course of our conversation that afternoon, I shared with them how I had reconnected with my piano after almost a year of a shuttered keyboard. What didn’t feel right during the pandemic felt almost necessary for me now that we were in the New Normal. Despite several years of lessons and countless hours of practice on the Yamaha upright that we purchased in 1982, I never considered myself as an accomplished pianist.

As Larry and I were driving home from the beach the Friday night before Rosh Hashanah, we got a phone call from Jonathan. 

“Did you see the email about Rosh Hashanah services?” he asked. 

“No, we have been on the beach all day. What is happening?”

Our rabbi’s wife serves as our cantor. Sadly, her father had passed away the previous day, and she needed to fly to Long Island to be with her family. Marilyn Glaser, our shul’s president, asked the Shopiros to step in to provide the music in her place. Remembering our recent conversation but obviously ignoring my personal assessment of my skill level, Jonathan asked me if I would be interested in accompanying him on the piano. 

“Email the music to me,” I told Jonathan. “I’ll look it over and call you later this evening. “

Once we got home, I printed out familiar songs I recognized from my years of synagogue attendance: Ki Mitziyon, Rom’mu, Shalom Rav, Avinu Malkeinu,  and Debbie Friedman’s beautiful rendition of the Mi Shebeirach prayer. Most of the sheet music consisted of just the melody line. 

“Yes, we can do this!”  they reassured me. 

As I was already having three people for Rosh Hashanah, I extended the invitation to the Shopiros as well. Over the next twenty-four hours before the scheduled 7 p.m. Sunday service, I practiced my parts in between preparing dinner: chicken, potatoes, green beans, fresh challah, and my chocolate chip cookies.

Larry stepped right up to the task as well, serving as  my last-minute sous chef, table setter, pot washer, and last minute supermarket runner

Larry and I met the Shopiros an hour before services for one last practice session.  Due to some health concerns, Susan was unable to play the violin, but she would be the lead vocalist as needed. Thanks to Jonathan’s expertise and great job of covering up my mistakes, we left that evening feeling that, while no one would mistake us for professionals, we had contributed to and enhanced the service. 

Monday morning’s “performance” went even smoother. I had gained confidence. I was—after all— not exactly playing Chopin’s “Etude in G Sharp minor.” I was playing a melody line in easy keys, Jonathan played harmony on the flute; the congregation readily sang along. It was—for this reluctant recitalist—pure joy. 

That afternoon, as seven of us sat around our dining room table, Larry made a toast to my “first and last” public piano performance. 

Or maybe not. Jonathan would love to continue contributing his talents to future services. I certainly won’t mind accompanying him  on a couple of songs, especially my personal favorite,  the Mi Shebeirach prayer. These fingers are itching for another congregational try. 

First published in (Capital Region, New York) The Jewish World November 11, 2022.