I am grateful for: music, both the kind I listen to and the kind I make

Early in my Month of Thanksgiving, I gave thanks for traditional jazz — but that’s not the only music that makes me happy.
In high school, I hung out with the band and musical theater nerds. In college I was entertainment editor at our newspaper, I worked at two of our radio stations and spent a lot of time hanging out with various bands. Shortly after college, I had my hand writing analyzed for a feature story in the newspaper where I worked and the analyst said music was important in my life — which wasn’t a stretch, since I was managing the band our sports editor played bass in.
So like the hand writing lady said, music is a big part of my life. I think of it like having my own personal soundtrack.

Some examples from my Pandora stations:

Rat Pack Radio — I could listen to Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin every day and never get tired of them. We went through a phase where I don’t think we even took Frank and Dean out of the CD player, we’d listen to them most evenings when I got home from work, maybe while enjoying a cocktail. It feels so swank and civilized. They chill me out while lifting my mood.
Catch a Wave Radio — In high school, I discovered my mom’s Beach Boys and Jan and Dean albums and for a few years, I became obsessed with surf rock. It’s perfect summer backyard party music.
Superstition Radio — Stevie Wonder and I are from the same hometown so maybe I love his music because we have that connection. Or maybe it’s just that he’s funky fabulous. John and I stood in the pouring rain to watch Stevie at Jazz Fest a few years back and I have no regrets getting soaked to the bone to dance to one of my piano idols. I’ve been working on My Cherie Amour for weeks now and sadly, I think it’s gonna be a long time before I can rock it like Stevie.
Turn it UP Radio — When I’m in the mood to rock out, I turn to a hybrid classic rock mix that started with AC/DC, the Doors and Van Halen (David Lee Roth, not Sammy Hagar, thank you), and added some White Stripes and Lenny Kravitz to freshen it up. John and I refer to this guitar rock as cooking music, because somehow it feels like the perfect inspiration to get dinner on the table.
Electronic ’80s — Yes, I was one of those black turtleneck wearing chicks in the ’80s who danced to Erasure, Depeche Mode and The Cure and the synth pop of my youth is still a guilty pleasure. In spite of how sullen some of the lyrics might be, give me some Howard Jones or New Order and I want to dance around the living room. That’s probably why I rarely listen to this one at work — my coworkers might snicker if I hopped up to sing along.

And these days I’m not just consuming music. I’m making some of my own.
After wanting to take lessons for years — decades, really — I finally got started playing piano this spring. It’s slow going since I’ve never played an instrument and still struggle with basics like reading music and keeping time, but when I get those few glorious moments of plunking on the keyboard and having a recognizable tune come out, it’s blissful.
My Wednesday evening piano lessons are sometimes immensely frustrating. I’m a perfectionist who struggles with my beginner mistakes.
But that’s part of what’s been so good for me. My teacher, Sheldon, tells me it’s his job to tell me when I’ve screwed up and mine to just play, so knock it off with the self criticism. He even prescribed drinking a little wine before I practice, so I’ll lighten up. Who wouldn’t love a piano teacher who wants me to drink more wine?
Because I’m also grateful for good wine …