Her story started as many do amidst the sights and sounds and scents that folks call home. It could be anytime, anywhere. But it wasn't Rio or Africa or Paris. As it so happened, it turned out to be 1930's America. Where muscles wore out in time to worksongs as fingers slowly bled. Where the sweet aroma of a fresh baked apple pie cooling on the windowsill could make your heart flutter, if only momentarily wrestling aside the the stench of fear. It was in Tryon, which is just south of Dirtpoor, North Carolina. Home of nothing good and right next door to even worse. Brokenbacksville. Lumpstown, USA.
If it wasn't for her acute condition, nobody would have ever seen her. Nobody lines up to watch someone slowly die. If it wasn't for her condition they would have had no choice but to keep her home to continue her apprenticeship in misery. Fortunately the Doctor agreed and with the help of the "Eustice Waymon Fund" they gathered enough alms to send her to the only place that could help. For her condition was quite dire; she was diagnosed early on with a rather severe case of serious talent. So it was, off to the "famed" Julliard Clinic of the Arts in New York.
Julliard. Where Bach and Brahms tripped over each other trying to get away and certainly where Miles heard her play.
They cured her there. Taught her how to play. Set her straight, allright. Showed her how to make the best of her condition. How to ease the pain when they told her she was no good elsewhere. Where being no good meant not the right color.
She was just a useful naive little girl with her hat out, playing for tips at the Midtown Bar and Grill in Atlantic City when they told her that she would have to sing if she wanted to get paid. (She understood that the Lord don't pay and she played anyway, even though the Lord don't pay.) But she could play. Lord knows she could play.
She had a nickname then and they told la niña that they weren't going to pay her to sit around and play.
So she sang. And she played and she howled and she banged... until the keys and her fingers bled.
She cured us then. Taught us how to play. Set us all straight, right?
