【Myfather'sfamilyisnotamusicalfamily．Theyareafamilyofwords．Mybrotherhasmyfather'sdarkhair，hisloveofagoodargument．Itakeaftermymother．FromherIinheritedacuriousnature，asenseofadventure，brightredhair．I】

　　My father's family is not a musical family．They are a family of words．My brother has my father's dark hair，his love of a good argument．I take after my mother．From her I inherited a curious nature，a sense of adventure，bright red hair．I did not，contrary to her hopes，inherit a talent for the piano．That fact was established beyond doubt after unsuccessful attempts to draw music from me．

　　The piano lessons began when I was four．My mother was convinced that l would be a child Mozart．She found the ideal teacher---Madame Oblenka，a strict Russian woman，whose pursed lips were enough to frighten a wild horse into submission．Madame Oblenka，who expected a little Mozart，was not very delighted to find a little girl banging her fists （拳头） on the keys．

　　I tried to please her．"Feel the music，"she urged．I"felt"it and winced （畏缩） my ears--for what is more unpleasant than a series of wrong notes played continuously？She"felt"my music，too，which is why she always left with an angrier expression than when she came．

　　Once，when I was ten，I managed to record one of my own rehearsals （练习）．In order to escape my practice sessions，I would close myself behind the door of the piano room，put on the tape recording，and read until the tape had finished．That method worked for a week，until my mother began to wonder why I always missed the same B-sharp．She knocked on the door，and，receiving no answer，came in to check on me and found that I had fallen asleep while the tape of my performance played on and on．

　　I was twelve when my parents finally acknowledged that my hidden talent was not about to emerge （显现） any time soon．My mother，refusing to admit defeat，told me to pick another instrument．"Choose anything you want，Honey，"she said，assuming that freedom of choice would inspire devotion．I thought long and hard and chose the drums．My parents，sensitive to noise，would be less than overjoyed by a daily bombardment of playing．I imagined m