Metaphors of Music Henry James Gilchrist

I can’t eat Werther’s butterscotch candies anymore. For eight years Mr. Werth, my piano teacher, always kept a bag of Werther’s Butterscotch candies in his bag that he would share with me and my siblings. I have an enduring association between the taste of those candies and the lessons Mr. Werth taught me, the most important of which did not involve sheet music or a piano.

Mr. Werth drove thirty minutes to our house every week for our lessons and would spend all of Sunday afternoon with us. I remember asking my mom one day why he always dressed up the way he did in slacks, dress shoes, a button down shirt and tie, and usually a nice coat. She told me that he thought his job was important, and he took it seriously. Whenever I felt reluctant to practice, I would remember how much Mr. Werth wanted me to succeed. Watching him sit and play the piano between the lessons of me and my siblings, I could tell that playing piano delighted Mr. Werth, and it was his goal to show others how music can bring them joy as well. Early in my piano experience, he waltzed through the door one day, his trusty old German Shepard Josie by his side, and announced that he had something for me. That ancient, but well-maintained, copy of Huckleberry Finn...