Dave Paulson's Life-Personal Narrative

Billie Jo demonstrates perseverance and optimism even after her hands are badly burned in a fire. Her mother taught her to play to piano when she was young and it was a passion for her. She still strives to play the piano even though it is painful. “And I’ve been playing a half hour every day, making the skin stretch, making

Mrs. Thomas shares with me that her earliest childhood memory was at the age of 5 years old. She recalls the family installing a Baby Grand Piano, which they placed in the family’s living room, where each child in the home learned to play well. Most evenings after dinner the family would sing and play the piano, taking turns as a way of sharing family time, this was something the entire family enjoyed. She said she valued engaging in music with her family because she believed it provided a bond between each sibling and her mother. She recalls her life

Throughout his life, my father never charged a penny for his services; instead he lined his pockets with smiles, grateful he had a pleasurable gift he could share with others. It was his way of contributing to his close-knit community. His piano was his lifeline, and his one true love--next to my mother, of

Paul knew the importance of this meeting. He had already been in this before more than once maybe twice. As he sat in complete silence, his last encounter with Principal Sweet played in his mind over and over again.

I sat and listened to the beautiful yet invigorating song being played on the piano. I reminisced about the future, when I would be able to play such a complex piece of music. Six years later I sat awaiting my turn to perform this piece of music I had so long dreamed about. I felt butterflies dancing in my stomach, but at the same time I felt a sense of peace and contentment. I played this song flawlessly and from that moment on, I knew that I wanted to use my knowledge and talent of playing the piano to change the world for the better. I desired to impact young, aspiring piano students just as the song that impacted my life so long ago. I long to do so by studying music in college and continue to teach piano.

I look down in front of me on my onyx stand holding my chalky discolored sheet music, with a bunch of pen drawn in notes and numbers. I count down the measures till I come in. Holding my resplendent, sterling trumpet I slowly bring it up to my lips. The trumpet is freezing cold in my hands. In the back of my head, I’m counting to four over and over. Staring out at the crowd inspecting all the faces makes my stomach ache up, I shiver a little

Running the tips of his fingers along the keys, a broad-shouldered boy who has long become a man is perched precariously upon a lightly padded wooden piano bench in one of Columbia’s common rooms. He gently fumbles with the right hand of the Allegro movement, savoring especially the gorgeous A major zenith as eighth notes turn to sixteenths and leap, joyously singing with elation. He looks at me, makes a face, throws his head back and laughs because five years ago we sat on opposite sides of a vacant Stanford fraternity house with no interest in speaking to each other.

tenderness through dreamy, lyrical lines that made the piano sing. She truly brought out the

Situated in the centre of my room the next morning, I opened some of the presents that I had gotten the night before. I don’t know why I bothered, mainly because I didn’t want half of them. Once they were open, I just gave them a meaningless glance and tossed them to the corner of my room. The pile grew: a film-contained camera, a pair of binoculars, a fancy parasol, and envelopes that had a birthday card along with some gold bits. None of them mattered to me. I didn’t want any of this. My father never would’ve thrown me a party like that if he had known that Vinyl and I were more than sisters now.

I remember hearing of the death of the “King of Rock and Roll”. It was August of 1977 when I was soon to enter my senior year in high school. I was listening to the radio as most teenagers did back then and heard the unbelievable announcement that Elvis Presley was dead at the young age of 42 years old. He had been found dead in his Graceland bathroom from a heart attack due to an abuse of prescription drugs.

between the daughter and mother about the piano lessons, and how the daughter refused to

In the poem “Piano” by D.H Lawrence, the poem is passionate about his childhood memory. As an adult man, an unknown woman is singing to him, that moment sparks a nostalgic warmth inside his head. As the music of his youth plays, the speaker sees his childlike self underneath

There were marks throughout the papers. Some denoted urgent reminders, others, the occasional inside joke and possibly a crude doodle. Rearranging the papers, I came quickly came across the song, “Santa Fe”. On the top of the page, one scrawl stood out.

     The poem Piano, by D. H. Lawrence describes his memories of childhood. Hearing a woman singing takes him to the time when his mother played piano on Sunday evenings. In the present, this woman is singing and playing the piano with great passion. However, the passionate music is not affecting him, because he can only think about his childhood rather than the beauty of the music that exists in his actual space.

Life moves on, cherish the past but create your own future. In “Piano” by H D Lawrence the speaker reminisces about being a child listening to his mother singing while he is under the piano playing with her feet, this is a discomforting memory to him that is triggered by hearing another woman’s singing. Through the use of diction, Lawrence coveys, that memories can be bittersweet.