When I was twelve years old I admired men who could play the piano, and my Aunt Mable said she would give me piano lessons. One day a week I would go to her home for a lesson. After a couple of months I was not accomplishing anything. On a nice spring afternoon when I was at the piano lesson, she asked me if I would rather be outside playing baseball. I nodded yes, and she thought I would do much better at that, so the piano lessons ceased.