We all have that special one. The following is mine, and I would love to share it with all my friends. It would become a memory never, ever forgotten and would also become my life’s lesson. I would forever thereafter pattern my life by it's values and share with every student I would encounter in the some 42 years thereafter that I was privileged to serve as a minister of music and assistant high school band director.

In 1960, Daddy, Mama, myself and my sister Anne would make the long and arduous move from our little two bedroom/two bathroom home of fourteen years at 1918 Surginor Road to a more spacious one in the newly developed subdivision of Leonard McDonald by the name of Forest Hills. It took us all of two miles down Roberdel Road. There in a soon to be converted screened-in side porch in our little textile hometown of Rockingham, North Carolina was where my memory would be born and nurtured.

As I stated, our new home had a large screened-in side porch. Now for those of you who knew my Mama, you know full well that Theo Smith won’t gonna sit and rock in no rocking chair or swing in no porch swing and waste her precious time sipping on sweet tea and shooting da breeze; thus, this big ole screened porch was ‘bout to get changed into something much more useful (sorry Mama ~ always the English teacher ~ I just had to write it that way).

Immediately after settling in our new home, Mama would have my Dad contact Mr. McDonald and discuss with him the enclosure of this large, unused and worthless (to my Mama) screened-in side porch. Because screened porches were popular, Mr. McDonald thought it unnecessary, but of course, Mama got her way. She would have it designed to include one solid wall of custom bookshelves which would become the new home for the myriad of music, teaching materials and books she owned. Readily available here was enough music, historical and reading material to accommodate a small college library.…and of course she had to have included a properly lit study desk built where Anne and I could study. And finally, there would be adequate space for her piano, and plenty of extra space for practicing. Upon completion, the new room would become dubbed Mama’s Music Room.

Her new Music Room would finally afford her the luxury of a place in which she could escape at any time, and submerse herself in her music…here she could simply sit at her beloved upright piano given to her by her mother and play it any time her heart desired…here allowed her a place in which she could teach the myriad of students that would pass through the doors…here would become a study that was finally providing a suitable place for her children to study…most of all, here became a suitable place for her to be able to lovingly watch both my sister and I daily as we would practice our instruments and singing.

Mom’s music Room would be furnished modestly. There she would have a couple of very uncomfortable metal folding chairs (however, according to her, you weren’t supposed to be comfortable. You were just supposed to sit upright with your back away from the chair (or stand as the case may be) and breathe properly from your abdomen). There were two wire music stands for instrument practice, a piano bench, the ever present Seth-Thomas metronome sitting atop the piano, two throw rugs, and finally an old twin bed that had been pushed against the outside brick wall below the outside of the kitchen window. She fashioned a hand sewn homemade slip cover that was draped over it, and finally several comfy pillows were also scattered against the wall making the old twin bed serviceable as auditorium seats for guest, friends, and family to sit on during musical performances (and a place to neck if dating at home).

My sister Anne and I were fortunate to have an excellent teacher and educator for a mother. We would be taught about many wondrous things far earlier than most musical students, not to mention all the English and history. We learned of many musical definitions and terms as well as how to put them into practice. Most importantly, we also learned what  the words “practice” and “practice room” meant. Most music students cringe when they hear these two terms; however, as I reflect today, I can honestly say that I never hated going to this or any other practice room. If fact, it’s hard for me to even imagine that Mama’s practice room and practice rooms elsewhere were not readily available for use by any musical student when needed.

When I entered college as a music major, “practice” and the “practice room” were no strangers to me. I had already been lovingly taught that the practice rooms were not my enemy, but they were to become my friend and should be viewed as a sanctuary in which I would be privileged to spend many long hours of practice in the effort of perfecting my proficiency of whatever I was practicing. My fellow music majors in college made fun of me for spending so much time in the “practice rooms”; nevertheless, it was never drudgery. Mama’s wisdom once again proved to be correct for the more I practiced, the better my proficiency.

As I reflect on these valuable lessons that Mama taught us both, I see now that they were much the same as those we learned in Sunday School and Church. She always told us that all of our talents had been entrusted to us by God , and we were not to take a one of them lightly. Just as we were instructed from the Bible in Sunday School, Mama also expected us to expound upon each and every talent we possessed to the best of our ability.

Mama’s musical room was also one of solace for both my Sister and I. Here we would both be introduced to many amazing musical instruments. Mama would display to us such wondrous instruments with names such as the piano, saxophone, clarinet, flute, sousaphone (yes a tuba ~ the piano and sousaphone were Mom’s major instruments while a student at Winthrop College), snare drum, recorder, pennywhistle, jaw harp, cymbal, tambourine, wire grass (yes grass), trumpet, clarinet, saxophone, and many others. To top it off she would demonstrate to us how to play each and every one. And yes, she could play them all with an amazing degree of proficiency.

She was indeed amazing with her capabilities of providing her own teaching materials. I can still see her sitting in one of the previously mentioned uncomfortable metal chairs in her music room during the hot summer months as she fashioned homemade musical instruments from everyday household items. They were for her classroom and students for the upcoming school year. She made instruments such as pan flutes from drinking straws cut to varying lengths, xylophones from glasses with different amounts of water in them, drums from oatmeal boxes with a shoestring for a neck strap and a carved twig from an oak tree or a spoon from the kitchen for a drum stick, guitars out of shoeboxes and rubber bands, a wash tub bass fiddle, a saw played with an old regular hand saw and an old violin bow, and the coolest one of all was a trumpet made from some gasoline tubing Granddaddy had lying around, rolled into a circle and tapped so that the open ends were opposite each other with an old metal funnel stuck in one end and an old trumpet mouthpiece from school stuck in the opposite end…and on and on and on I could go. That was the advantage of having a band director as a Mom. It was truly fun being able to learn about all of this cool stuff, but it was even more fun to simply be able to hang out with our Mom…and we loved every minute of it.

In this classroom we would also learn of many a composer, the songs they had penned, and the history behind each and every composition. There we were taught fascinating theories of what all those black notes (with and without tails)…all the horizontal and vertical lines…and the multitude of all the curiously placed dots and odd shapes of musical drawings, and the multitude of abbreviated foreign terms necessary to be translated into English in order for effects of the music to be put into practice. We were taught all of this and made to practice it until we could proficiently translate it and put all into practice as if it were a second language. Before I was the ripe old age of 6, I could direct in a perfect 4/4; 2/4; and 3/4 pattern. As if this were not enough, she would then teach us the many fingerings that were required to make our instruments sound just right.

Also in this room I was taught probably one of the most valuable lessons that she ever shared with me. It would become my life lessons. As we would practice, Mama would often pat me on the face and say, “Son, you know how to play the notes (or sing the notes as the case may be), but don’t play from here (as she patted me on the head). Remember that if your practice is worthy of your valuable time perfecting, then it is worthy of nothing less than your very best, so play from here”. As if it were yesterday, I can still feel her hand as she ever so gently would place it over my heart, and quietly proclaim with almost a tear in her voice, “Play it from here, son. Play it from here.”

To this day I have made it my purpose to pass this valuable lesson of “Play (or Sing) From The Heart” on to every music student that I have been fortunate enough to teach. It is by far the tool that I have been able to communicate with and to all of my students of how they can prepare for and possess the same love for their music as did both my Mother and I before them.

In my 42 years of teaching, it is still absolutely amazing to me the knowledge that my little Mama (in height only) possessed. Her heart and love of music was far bigger and greater than anyone I have ever known. It was miraculous the ability she possessed to so easily transfer this knowledge and love to every student she ever taught. She loved every student she ever taught, she shared her love of music and every other subject she taught to all of them until the time of her death. She was a teacher and educator personified.

My fondest of all memories in this room was born during the Thanksgiving season of 1960. This is the year she taught me “Bless This House”. From this time forward, before and during Thanksgiving each year, Mama would always coax me out to her Music Room and have me sing or practice this particular song. Here I was made to stand behind her right shoulder with perfect posture, holding my copy of the music as she sat on the piano bench and accompanied me on the piano. Of all the musical selections she would ever have me learn, the one I remember the most was “Bless This House”, specifically to be sung for her during this season. For whatever reason, she absolutely adored me singing this song for her as she accompanied. She had me sing this song for her so much; I thought I would literally throw up.

Once, before Mama passed away and after I had married, my wife Gail and I traveled home for the Thanksgiving holiday. As always she would drag me out to her Music Room. All the while I knew what I was being summonsed there for. Once again she would place me behind her right shoulder, and say sing this one for me, son. Little did I know that today would become a very special day. Today I was to learn why she preferred that I stand behind her instead of sit and much, much more.

Mama turned around on the piano bench, looked up at me and gave me the “Sing From The Heart” lecture. I responded, “Yes, Mama, I will.” She then turned around facing the piano and began to play the introduction to “Bless This House”. As I was singing, I happened to glance down at her face. When I reached the chorus of the song for the first time, my eyes carried me down to Mama, and in my mind's eye I can still vividly see the tears running down her right cheek and falling on her shoulder. She never missed a note. At that moment, singing from the heart took on an all new meaning for me. We would finish. She quickly wiped the tears from her eyes, turned and said to those in attendance, “When Ken sings this song for me, I forgive him for everything he has done that was bad or mischievous.” From that day forward I would never again mind singing this song for my beloved Mama. From that day forward I would only stand behind her if I sang for guests or an audience; otherwise, I would forever else sit by her side on the piano bench with my arm on her shoulder. She never again requested that I stand behind her. I had finally graduated, and forevermore my music took on an all new meaning. Finally my music meant to me as much as it meant to my Mama. The true definition for “Sing From The Heart” was finally comprehended and understood.

Regardless of the abundance of times I was made to sing this song, it is a beautiful one indeed. It is virtually a nondenominational hymn - was published in 1927 and is the work of an Australian woman, May Brahe, and an English woman, Helen Taylor. Helen Taylor, a poet, wrote the original words for the song and titled it "Bless This House." Her friend, Mary Brahe, composed the stirring, devotional music that so warmly embraces the prayerful sentiments of the lyrics. Their combination sets a soaring and majestic tone to give the song emotional impact, and truly “BLESS THIS HOUSE. The lyrics are as follows:

Bless this house, o Lord, we pray.
Make it safe by night and day.
Bless these walls so firm and stout,
Keeping want and trouble out.
Bless the roof and chimney tall,
Let thy peace lie over all.
Bless the doors that they may prove
Ever open to joy and love.
Bless the windows shining bright,
Letting in God's heavenly light.
Bless the hearth a-blazing there,
With smoke ascending like a prayer.
Bless the people here within...
Keep them pure and free from sin.
Bless us all, that one day, we
May be fit, O lord, to dwell with Thee.

Well, how shall I end my memory? I’m not really sure that I can, and equally positive that I cannot do so with any justice. This life’s lesson taught to me as a teen many long years ago still burns bright within my heart and mind today. I know this for sure. I can loudly and proudly proclaim "I love you, Mama". I think of you every day, and I still try to share this loving memory and life’s lesson to all of my students, both young and old alike. I shall forever remember the tears that fell upon your shoulder. Each one will forever be emblazoned upon my heart and this would become the exact moment that I would fully fathom the lesson learned from singing and playing from my heart was to truly mean. I was to learn much in your “Music Room”, but to this one particular lesson learned I can only say, “Bless This House”.