When I was a kid, I remember walking into the living room and discovering the most amazingly beautiful piece of furniture I'd ever seen. A piano. I had no idea where it had come from, how it got there, or who it was for, but I was hooked. I remember opening up the piano bench and finding music books and I sat down and proceeded to teach myself to play. I mastered that first book after only a few lessons. My teacher - so impressed.
After that, I kind of slowed down, took it easy, and learned the piano at a more normal pace. My teacher retired after a couple of years. My second teacher moved to Utah after another year or so. My third and final teacher quit after a few months when her son was injured. They got me started, and I was glad to quit... then. I wish now, though, that I had worked harder and learned more.
One day, my dad declared to us few kids remaining at home that whoever learned to play his favorite song, "Alley Cat" first, got to have the piano someday. I took that challenge very seriously and learned it within a couple of weeks. I don't know if he ever remembered that promise, but when mom and dad downsized into a smaller house, they didn't want to take the piano with them, so I inherited it. I don't recall anyone else even being offered the piano.
This past week, I was practicing up for our fourth (and second to last) Ten Virgins performance. It's always hard to play this piano because it's always had such a different sound than any piano you've ever heard. Especially church pianos. Perhaps it's just THAT out of tune? I remembered there was a business card on the inside with the name of a piano tuner, so I opened it up and checked out the date. 1982! Could it really be that long since this piano has been tuned?
I also discovered that my unmarked piano has a brand. It's a Henry K. Miller, and despite the sound of it making me wonder if it was built in 1863, I did some research and found it was actually built in 1959.
I would secretly love a new piano. One without a middle C of a different color. One that sounds just like the beautiful piano's at church. One that is a little longer, shaped a little more like a baby grand. One that doesn't have a broken music stand or pigeon poop on the inside from the month it spent in storage while I was moving back in 1998.
But, this is the piano where it all began. The one that got me started doing something that, even though I'm really not that good at it, I love to sit and play. I love to listen to my youngest daughter as she sits down and plays anything and everything she can - by ear. Who needs lessons when you can play whatever you want already? Certainly not her.
Now, I need to hire my neighbor, Paul, an extremely talented piano tuner, to come and tune it for me. I'm curious to hear what it would sound like after all these years. I also wonder if he charges extra for dusting?
After that, I kind of slowed down, took it easy, and learned the piano at a more normal pace. My teacher retired after a couple of years. My second teacher moved to Utah after another year or so. My third and final teacher quit after a few months when her son was injured. They got me started, and I was glad to quit... then. I wish now, though, that I had worked harder and learned more. 
One day, my dad declared to us few kids remaining at home that whoever learned to play his favorite song, "Alley Cat" first, got to have the piano someday. I took that challenge very seriously and learned it within a couple of weeks. I don't know if he ever remembered that promise, but when mom and dad downsized into a smaller house, they didn't want to take the piano with them, so I inherited it. I don't recall anyone else even being offered the piano. 
This past week, I was practicing up for our fourth (and second to last) Ten Virgins performance. It's always hard to play this piano because it's always had such a different sound than any piano you've ever heard. Especially church pianos. Perhaps it's just THAT out of tune? I remembered there was a business card on the inside with the name of a piano tuner, so I opened it up and checked out the date. 1982! Could it really be that long since this piano has been tuned? 
I also discovered that my unmarked piano has a brand. It's a Henry K. Miller, and despite the sound of it making me wonder if it was built in 1863, I did some research and found it was actually built in 1959. 
I would secretly love a new piano. One without a middle C of a different color. One that sounds just like the beautiful piano's at church. One that is a little longer, shaped a little more like a baby grand. One that doesn't have a broken music stand or pigeon poop on the inside from the month it spent in storage while I was moving back in 1998. 
But, this is the piano where it all began. The one that got me started doing something that, even though I'm really not that good at it, I love to sit and play. I love to listen to my youngest daughter as she sits down and plays anything and everything she can - by ear. Who needs lessons when you can play whatever you want already? Certainly not her. 
Now, I need to hire my neighbor, Paul, an extremely talented piano tuner, to come and tune it for me. I'm curious to hear what it would sound like after all these years. I also wonder if he charges extra for dusting? 
6 comments:
love this story---
PERFECT! What a fun "walk" through the history of your piano... and I love the photos! :)
I really like the story that went with the pictures, and I'm especially glad you got the piano in the end whether your dad remembered the "Alley Cat" promise or not.
I love this post!
Tracy sent me over here to read your blog (she's my niece) and what a sweet surprise to see my dad's card in your piano. He was a doll and I miss him. I love that his card's anchored in a bunch of pianos all over the west.
Thanks for the treat of a lovely post.
Treat yourself and get it tuned. You will never regret it.
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