Piano that makes you brilliant
This piano was the hardest possession to sell - I'm not sure if I made the right decision |
This is a Cable console / upright piano that has literally played every feeling I've had for 20 years. I've confirmed it can make these noises: joyful, angry, melancholy, exuberant, tearful, giddy, morose, off-kilter, curious, scared, in love, and broken-hearted. It is especially good for procrastinating when you're supposed to be doing something with your life instead of playing that damn piano all day. It's yours for $100 or best offer if you hire actual movers and promise to use it. -craigslist adI sold my piano for nothing. This is only fitting, since I got it for free. The condition was that the new owner would hire professional movers, and that they would encourage their kids to play it all the time. Those were the same conditions I was given.
I originally came by this piano via a work colleague, Karen F., who had owned it for years and was moving to a smaller home with her new husband. Her kids had learned to play on it, and she had a sentimental attachment to it. I was recently married, and planning to have children, so she let me take it for free, as long as I didn't screw it up and let my kids play it.
This piano was really a part of me - it was always central to my home. First in my house on Leavitt,it was right at the base of the stairs, and I could fill the house with it. My daughters would bang on it, scribble on the sheet music, and sit on my lap while I played.
When I re-met the Fabies (that's a different story), I started writing music on the piano. It was a new type of music for me to write. I wrote dozens of tunes on that old piano - slightly out of tune and creaky by now. We recorded and played those songs, and they sustained my through the first years of my new single-ness. I didn't realize it at the time, but the piano became something of an extension of my subconscious. I'd play "All of me" or "Witchcraft" when I was happy in the afternoon and the sun was shining, and when I was dark and pensive in the evening (after a drink or two) I'd play "Stella" or "Chelsea Bridge".
I decided to sell it instead of making it fit in the new house after a lot of thinking. On the one hand, this piano was a piece of my life story. It was a drinking buddy and a writing partner. It was there for me whenever I needed it. I knew to avoid the Bb below middle C because it didn't sound right. I knew that the pedals were squeaky. I kept the lid open, and the bench pulled out so that I could always sit down and play.
On the other hand, I was leaving. I was exiting the cocoon. This home I huddled in for some 8 years was going to be empty and I was leaving it for the new energy of the blue house. I could force the piano to fit - to align to the new energy of the place - or I could cut it loose. Leaving the last vestige of my old home behind.
So here's the best song I wrote on that piano (out of all of them). It's called, fittingly, "Home".
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