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Being here made me a little depressed. I guess remembering home, the place my husband died, the place I grew up. It made me miss home. But I had to hide it or they would send me to the mental hospital.
Oh, honey look. It's one of those erratic from the cartoon. Haha.
This is my story and like others it was hard. Life was not easy and maybe there were bumps in the road but it all works out. And just like a piano life has is black keys, the bad times in life, and white keys, the good times. But remember that in life the black keys make music too.
Life as an Irish immigrant was lonely. People would create stereotypes about us.
Being lonely made me have a lot of time to play the piano.
After awhile things got a little better. The teasing didn't stop but my masters started to trust me more. So..
... she let me and my son Ian live in her guest house.
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