I've known for decades now that G-d has a really good sense of humor. On Tuesday, "World Alzheimer's Day," it was in full force and effect as I stood on the doorstep of #7 Evesham Place for my 7:30 a.m. piano lesson.
They were my newest piano family. The previous week had been our first lesson.
It took an especially long time for my knock to be answered. The Roomba, in fact, greeted me first from the base of the tall, narrow window to the side of the heavy oak door. "Go get your Mommy or Daddy," I told it, smirking, then realized that the Ring doorbell camera had probably just taken that all in. *sighhhh.* (Isn't automation FUN?)
Finally, the door opened, and before me stood a frowsy-looking dad. He'd been out of town the previous week, his wife had advised me.
"Good morning!" I said in my perky piano teacher voice.
He slitted his eyes a bit, taking in my red plaid dress and matching red plaid high heels, dark blue blazer and red beret.
His thought bubble read, "W.T.F."
"I'm your piano teacher," I advised, smiling warmly.
"Uh, I think you have the wrong house," he said in a generous tone, especially considering that I'd rousted him from his bed.
I gaped. "What?" I felt myself blink several times as I worked to digest that little nugget of information. "Seriously?" I asked - so stupidly - then added, "I could have just sworn this was where I was last week!" I gaped and blinked some more. "I am so embarrassed!" I said. "And very sorry."
I could feel my face becoming as red as my beret, my hair, my dress and my matching high heels.
"Who are you supposed to be giving lessons to?" he asked politely.
By now, though, I had become so flustered that mortification crowded out any previously-stored knowledge in my noggin. (See "World Alzheimer's Day" reference, paragraph one...)
Somehow, my eyes managed to gape even wider. I tried valiantly to blink them back into place, but 'vacuous' had become my new-normal in the facial expressions department. "Errrr...uhhhhh...oh my goodness...um, give me a moment here..." I said, pressing my index fingers tightly to my temples. Meanwhile, my Little Voice played the theme from Jeopardy: The Final Round on a never-ending loop.
The jammie-clad man's eyes began to cloud with suspicion. (Who IS this nut job on my front step? Nobody's THIS vacant!")
I stammered on. "Oh, good grief. This is so BAD! I'm completely blanking here! See, they just started with me last week, and now I'm totally jangled here! Oy vey! I am sooo. completely. EMBARRASSED!"
I had become the equivalent of a headless barnyard chicken...but in red plaid.
It was now the man's turn to smirk.
"Is it Kirtland?" he asked.
"KIRTLAND!" I shrieked as if this was the bonus round on Family Feud. "YESSS!! IT IS KIRTLAND!" I shrieked some more. And then I added "KIRTLAND!" because suddenly I just could not repeat their name enough times.
"That's their home over there," he said with a far-too-amused expression. He pointed to his next-door neighbor's home half a football field away.
I looked at it over my shoulder then turned back to him and said with a squeamish smile, "Wow. It looks nothing like yours, does it?" And then, because repeating everything I'd already said was suddenly what I did best in this world, I said, "And I was just there last week."
He had now begun straining to hold his lips together tightly, and I knew it was because he didn't want to laugh right out loud in my face at the utter inanity of this tableau I had created. I imagined him going back to bed, when we were through, and saying to his wife, "Hey guess what: the Kirtlands have hired the Village Idiot as their new piano teacher."
"Thank you," I said effusively. "And I'm so, so sorry and absolutely mortified."
"It's totally fine," he said, now entertained to the point of enchantment with my ridiculousness. (like when Lucy and Ethel were assembly-line workers at the chocolate factory...)
When I arrived at the Kirtlands' a moment later and the mom asked how I was, my response to her was a shell-shocked, "Thoroughly embarrassed," to which I added, "I just met your neighbor."
When I filled them in with the details of the encounter, Mr. and Mrs. Kirtland began doubling over with laughter.
Their child, my student, is six. This means that I'm going to be hearing reiterations of, "Hey, Shelley! Remember that second lesson with us when you..." for a minimum of a dozen years.
I guess G-d figured if He were going to imbue me with a sense of humor, then the least He - and his own sense of humor - could do was supply me with lots and lots of opportunities to use it.
9/26/2026
The Words That Got to Me
(like when Lucy and Ethel were assembly-line workers at the chocolate factory...) I remember that well! hysterical. Wow. It looks nothing like yours, does it? "And I was just there last week." and that's when I burst out laughing - An-and I'm surprised he could keep from it, himself! too funny!
two things, and then I'll get to your hilarious writing. First, I had to look up Roomba. Never having known anyone who had one, though, at some point, I had seen them advertised, I've never seen one "in person" so it isn't a word stored in my declining memory. Second,,,,hmmm.. oh! I have also never seen red plaid heels and I'm sure they are at least 4 inches high (for a piano lesson?) of course, and a beret? You kill me. I am sure you looked fabulous - especially with that curly red hair and your bright, piano teacher smile. I do think you made that guy's day! He probably closed the door and looked at his frowsy wife and wished you would reappear on his doorstep! Oh, another thing, the 6 year old piano student calls you Shelly? (That IS a fun nickname.) I guess it's just been toooooo many years since I've been around little kids and their teacher of anything that it just seemed so informal - unless you were a friend of he family. See, I am really showing my age, here. In Augusta, GA where I grew up, children and even teens just didn't call adults by their first name. Ok. enough of that. going back to the beginning, 7:30 AM for a piano lesson???? and you're in high heels, dressed to kill? well, Shelly, this is absolutely delightful, although I am sorry you were embarrassed - but the whole thing is really just too delicious! Can't you just see them at get-togethers with their friends, entertaining them royally? And, I should not say this, but you did make me feel better because I cannot remember names to save my soul! I have to write them down and repeat them a million times before I go somewhere. and I still forget. But you are too young for that. I think it was completely because you were flustered. This was a most delightful read - I mean you did make it very believable so I could see you emoting, over apologizing, standing there like little Mary Sunshine at 7:30 in the morning. It was probably a Saturday, too, wasn't it? ha ha ha ha ha Just think of it this way. He's probably still enjoying it.