I had to get the music book and a stand for Son. I headed to Alan’s Music.
This is one of those stores you hope will never move or be torn down, because it’s nearly exactly the same as when you were little. The lettering hasn’t changed. The hard to navigate parking lot hasn’t changed. Even the people working there haven’t changed.
I’ve been coming here since I was around 6 or 8. My brother took piano here, and I began when I was 10.
The downstairs is a warren of rooms, doors closed, music of varying qualities coming out.
They put the horn players upstairs away from everyone.
I spent every Wednesday evening here from when I was 10 to 16, taking piano lessons.
Anyway, I half expected there to be a time vortex when I walked into the store. I saw Alan, who was gray-haired when I was little. His son does most of the business. “I remember your face,” he said to me when I told him I used to take lessons. He asked my maiden name and said he remembered my parents.
I guess a lot of people like me come in. Now buying music for their own children.
There aren’t too many stores like this left. I’m just happy Wal-Mart doesn’t sell musical instruments or lessons.