I’m a piano player.
That sounds really good, so I’ll say it again . . .
I’m a piano player.
My problem is, the only piano I can play is my own.
Maybe I should explain . . .
I’ve always loved the piano. I would sit and listen for
hours to someone who can really play. Classical, modern, ragtime. You name it –
I would happily listen.
In an effort to get to that level of expertise, I even condescended
to taking lessons. Oh, not for very long. My ADD wouldn’t allow for any
extensive concentration.
But for a while, about when I was 12, the piano and I were
very good friends.
Fast forward several years, a marriage and a few children.
Husby, the kids and I were driving through Lethbridge,
Alberta.
Suddenly, Husby made a sudden – and quite violent – right-hand
turn.
I looked at him questioningly as I clutched at the door
handle.
He merely pointed toward a white, hand-lettered sign tacked
to the light pole we were just passing. It read: Garage Sale. There followed a list of items. Then, right at the
end, someone had scrawled in large letters: Player
Piano.
Okay, yes, I knew what a player piano was. Husby loved them.
We had even tried out a few of the modern, electronic does-it-all-for-you types
at local music stores. Then noted the (for us) astronomical price and fled.
This time, with a private seller, he must have been hoping
our chances were better.
He was right.
It proved to be the home of a dear friend’s parents.
And soon the deal had been made.
We were the proud new owners of a player piano.
The story doesn’t end there.
Buying the great hunk of furniture and actually laying claim
to it proved to be two separate stories. For example: The sellers had finished their
basement after they had installed the
piano. There was no way that sucker was ever coming out of there whole.
It took a piano expert to completely dismember our
acquisition to get it up the stairs.
And that was merely the first hurdle.
From there, we had to figure out where to put the thing. We
lived in a 14 X 24 house at the time. (I am not making this up.) We barely had
room for us and our four children.
No great problem for Husby. He happily found a place to
store it until we moved someplace bigger.
Perhaps that piano is the reason he found someplace bigger.
I never thought of that.
Moving on . . .
Our sweet little townhouse in Edmonton, Alberta, soon had a
proud focal point.
Our beautiful, oak, mahogany-jacketed, Heintzman, 1916, real-ivory-keyed,
lead-piped, foot-pumping marvel of music-producing ingenuity.
And, for the first time - ever - I could play the piano.
More stories to come . . .
I took one look at that picture of the piano and thought to myself, "she can't play the piano, she can run a player piano." It\s a beauty.
ReplyDeleteYou see right through me, Delores! :)
DeleteMy partner's parents had one of those. They loved it. And I never knew they were called player pianos.
ReplyDeleteOn the piano front, said partner tells me that there is a piano at Amsterdam Railway station. Anyone can wander up and play it. He listened enthralled as a teenager played for half an hour or more. Here? I think it would be vandalised.
Here, too. *sob*
DeleteThat's probably the only piano I could play too. I'm kind of musically challenged. I hear it in my head but my fingers are deaf. Stone deaf!
ReplyDeleteMy fingers, too! I told my mom the notes wouldn't come off the page for me!
Delete@EC; we often have decorated pianos set in odd places around Adelaide during our Art Festival season, anyone can sit down and play, I think in all the years I've seen them, only one person has sat and played. Everyone else just walks by and says "what a great idea."
ReplyDeleteWe're all too self-conscious. Hmmm . . . let's hear it for a little unconsciousness! :)
DeleteI tried to play the piano when I was a kid, even took lessons, but it turns out I am all thumbs when it comes to musical instruments. I love to listen though. I'm still stuck at 14 x 24! Hubby and I lived in a two room apartment when we first had the youngest. It was about the same size. Funny thing is we have the best memories from that place. We didn't have a car or anything, but we still had such fun!
ReplyDeleteIsn't it true, Rena?! We have such good memories of that tiny place! I learned to organize a house, I'll tell you. We had an acquaintance stop by to offer her laundry and I pointed to my washer and drier in the furthest corner of my little one-room home. Her mouth dropped open. I didn't bother to show her the dishwasher that formed my only counter. All the conveniences. Just none of the space! :)
DeletePlayer piano ... piano player ... technicalities ... :)
ReplyDeleteRight. :)
Delete