Digging Up Memories
There is a famous story in my family.
It goes something like this: My Oma, who was known her firm hand as much as her hearty laugh, decided that my Aunt Heidi would play the accordion. It didn’t matter that Heidi wanted to play the violin. It didn’t matter that Heidi hated the accordion. It didn’t matter that my mother, Greta, didn’t have to take music lessons of any kind. My Oma waved this off with a flick of her wrist. “Greta has no ear for music.”
So, there sat Heidi, on the couch, hour after hour, and played. That damn accordion.
It became the stuff of legends. Heidi and her dreaded accordion.
This week, my aunt was digging through her old albums and found this gem.
I don’t expect you all to laugh as much as my aunt, my mother, my sister and in turn, me, when I got the email, did. But the look on my aunt’s face is priceless. It tells such a story from her childhood. And that damn accordion.
I have to imagine that when Oma heard all the laughter, she smiled too.