Now I Own a Piano

When I was a kid, there was this standup piano that came with the house. We never figured out how the original owner of the piano had gotten it inside; it was wider in every dimension than any of the doors, because this house was built before codes and standards were a thing. Someone had slapped one streaky coat of robin’s egg blue paint on the whole things, and it had never been tuned.

I loved it.

Both of my parents are musicians, but not cool instruments, not instruments that you can play at parties. Well, I suppose that you could play a clarinet at a party, but for that to be a positive experience for the other people involved, it would have to be a specific sort of party.

So naturally, at the extremely grown up and two-digit age of ten, I was going to master this instrument, leave my nerdy-ass flute behind, and this, I was sure, would make me popular.

I bet you can see where this is going. You’re very perceptive, I’ve always admired that about you.

I learned to play “When You Wish Upon a Star,” but not the whole thing, just the melody. Real ones will know this from Disney’s Pinocchio. Everyone else will know it from the Disney studio card that plays at the start of their movies. You know, the zoom-out of Cinderella’s castle?

Anyway, that was the crowning achievement of the six months of piano lessons that I had somehow conned my way into getting for free*.

But then I just… stopped playing.

Now that I’m an adult who falls into the formerly gifted kid, pleasure to have in class, undiagnosed but we’re pretty sure, very large bucket of millennials, I know that I was autistic and not handling that very well. Still am autistic, but I handle it much better now. The extra twenty-five years of practice helps a lot.

For the last three years, since my partner and I have owned a house, I’ve been idly looking for a piano, to rekindle my childhood dreams of playing a cool instrument. Turns out, Craigslist is chock-full of people** who are willing to give you their pianos if you move them. However, said people are not typically willing to let you come by and see/push keys on their piano before you arrange movers. And moving a piano is serious business.

However, I am patient*** so I figured that it’s a numbers game and eventually, I would come across someone who wouldn’t give me a lemon.

And then I was at the end-of-season bell choir party, and the choir director, a former co-worker of mine before she had the audacity to retire, and personal friend, mentioned that since she had retired she was getting rid of a lot of stuff that she didn’t use, and this included her grandmother’s spinet.

So naturally, I asked how much she wanted for it, and she said, “Oh, you play?” and I was honest with her because I’m pretty sure that lying to women with silver hair leads to a curse on your entire bloodline, and frankly, we’ve got enough going on and don’t need that.

She said it was mine, if I could move it, because what she really wanted was for it to go to someone who would appreciate it.

If you are not familiar with pianos, spinets are the smallest of the analog pianos, topping out at around 400 pounds. Compact enough to fit in the bed of a full-size pickup truck, but still daunting.

But with some help from two strapping men who I bribed with lunch**** we got it moved in exactly the break between cloudbursts.

So now I own a piano. I ordered the Red Book, which looks different from the red book I learned to play the flute with, but which seems to be fairly well respected in the world of Amazon review. I also reached out to a friend of mine, who plays an astonishing array of instruments, for self-study materials. We’ll have to see how this goes. But since I told my friend that I wanted to learn, and lying to silver-haired women gets you cursed… well, I don’t have much of a choice, now do I?

A recent writing:

“This is what your life should have been like. You are an asset wherever you go. Remember that.”

Next time I’ll tell you about what I’m writing and why the current draft has been at 52k for a week.

Do good, friends.

*Out of pity. You can do things like that in small towns where everyone knows your mom works two jobs.

**Probably people with the same aspirational relationship with the instrument that I have. I am aware that this bodes poorly for my future. The potential future where I can play a piano at parties is far more interesting to me in this moment.

***This is a lie.

****Which they turned down, so these guys really just helped me move a piano for free. Having friends is underrated.