I didn’t think it would hit me this hard.
I haven’t sat down and played it for decades. But earlier this week, I gave my dad the green light to part with it. I just didn’t think the process would happen so quickly.
When I was around 9-years-old, I started taking piano lessons. I don’t remember what initiated this other than my mom wanting me to do it. I was happy to start this adventure as I already had a deep love of music early on.
My parents were cautious. It is one thing to start lessons and pay the $12 a week for instruction but it is another to invest hundreds of dollars into an instrument, as big as a piece of furniture, which could end up gathering dust in the corner once the novelty of the lessons wore off.
I started off with an electric organ. It had about half of the keys of a piano but to start it got the job done. Eventually though, as my lessons progressed, my piano teacher told my mom it was time to upgrade or I couldn’t advance.
My parents didn’t have a lot of spare cash at the time and the expense of a new piano was not in the budget. My mom has always had a frugal nature and so she immediately started looking into other options. She saw an ad in the paper for an auction at a home in North Versailles and a piano was on the docket. Upon arriving at the event, she learned that the 100 year old piano had been used in the home for teaching private lessons.
She had never been to an auction before and probably could have gotten the piano for a cheaper price had she not been paddle happy but with a pound of the gavel, “Sold” to the lady in the back for $300 - a price my grandmother offered to pay.
I vaguely remember the piano arriving. It was on wheels but still a challenge to maneuver this heavy box into our game room - a room it would occupy for nearly 40 years. Not long after the piano arrived, a tuner came to our house to get the century year old instrument in tip top shape. This past week when my father began taking the piano apart, we found the tuner’s name and date written behind the upper panel - February 1, 1984.
I took lessons through my freshman year of high school. Once I set my sights on participating in marching band, I moved to the clarinet. It was an easy transition due to my piano experience. (With the piano, your hands are doing two different things. On the clarinet, your hands are working together.) But the piano remained, and, from time to time, I would get my old lesson books out and play.
Even if you are not a musician, a piano is a nice compliment to any home. Even though no one was playing mine on a regular basis, it was a wonderful compliment to “Grammy and Pappy’s” and, over the years, each grandkid had their chance to tickle the ivories. A couple non-published works were composed by a few of the kids even though there were a few keys missing and the instrument was badly out of tune.
This past October, my parents ordered new carpeting and furniture for their game room. My piano was moved into the garage in order for the work to be completed. It never found its way back.
Looking at it the other day, taking up so much space that my parents are unable to put their car in the garage, I knew it was time to say goodbye. A large investment of time and money would be needed to return this piano to play-worthy condition - more money than was spent on purchasing it 36 years ago. Surprisingly, when I brought the subject up to my mother, there was no push back. She knew it was time too.
A few years back, a neighbor generously gifted my family her piano when she moved to California. Because of that, I knew I couldn’t attempt to make room for my ol’ upright. I looked up ways to repurpose a piano but the outdoor fountain/ garden/ wine bar was out of our wheelhouse. I had to let it go. In the shape the instrument is in and because of its age, I knew no local agency would take it as a donation either.
My dad who loves to tinker in his garage and was waiting years to say goodbye to the piano wasted no time taking it apart. Yes, for me, this has been very sad and I cried seeing it in pieces the other day but I know it is what needed to be done. The ol’ gal gave us her best and for the sound of music that emanated from her hammers and strings, I’ll always be grateful.
“Life is like a piano, the white keys are happy days, and the black keys are sad ones. Just remember that you need both to make music.”
- anonymous
