Aphantasia, 3

There was no vibraharp teacher in our town. My father could play the “marimbaphone” but it was somewhat different from a vibraharp; more like a marimba with metal keys. The Vibraharp was electric. I guess knowing this, he had also purchased an instruction book and four mallets. “You can do this,” he said. “It’s a piano keyboard. You simply play the notes with the mallets instead of with your hands.” Right. I really loved my father so I made a brave effort. First I started with one mallet in each hand—that was pretty much a cakewalk. Two in each hand was like a tight-rope walk for me. It took a LOT of effort and concentration to learn to manipulate them. From time to time, one or more would fly out of my hands and hit the wall across the room. One day as my father was driving me to school (I usually rode my bike the three miles) he asked me how my practicing was going. I replied, “I don’t have much time to practice. Two hours a day on piano . . . Mum is sick . . . meals to fix . . .” Practice in your head,” he replied. “That way you can practice any time anywhere.” IN MY HEAD? I don’t think so! More tomorrow.