Tuesday, June 2, 2009

I am Darlene's piano. I left my store when Wayne bought me as a wedding present for his bride. I was thrilled when Darlene chose me and I happily headed for my first home. There really wasn't a lot of room for me because I had to share space with reconditioned cast off furniture in a very small room. But it was better than sharing a big room with all those other pianos. (How I gloated when I was the chosen one).

A month later I was elated to hear that we would be moving to a new modern home. My happiness was spoiled when I discovered that I was vulnerable to dents and scratches. When Wayne and Bob (the owner of the domicile) moved me into the house, Bob swung me around and smashed me into the corner of the room causing me to suffer a big dent below the keyboard. I felt really hurt to think they didn't take better care of me and felt sorry for Darlene when she cried. I felt sorrier for her when Wayne got mad at her for crying. I didn't realize that he would always show anger when he felt guilty. It was part of his nature and his way of coping.

Little did I know that the second move was to be the first of twenty three more to follow. Some moves were in the same town and some were to different states. I have lived in Wisconsin, Colorado, Arizona, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts and am now in Arizona again. I am a veritable gypsy.

My first dent was not the end of the casualties I endured. Two years later a baby boy joined our household. He loved to sit on my bench and pretend he was playing. Unfortunately for me, he got so carried away he wet his diaper and spoiled the lovely blond finish on my bench.



I was really hurt when Wayne, who smoked those smelly white sticks, let one of them fall off of the ashtray onto my top and burned me. That hurt worse than the dent. I have a spot now where the burn occurred. Because I was no longer new I didn't have to listen to Darlene cry this time. She had learned that 'stuff happens'.

My last disaster happened when Darlene's granddaughter, Rachel, visited. She and her cousin thought it was great fun to hit the edge of my keys and chip them. Well, we all get older and have our share of accidents I guess.

At least life was never dull for me, what with all the things I saw and places I lived. I am happy that my long life provided much happiness for Darlene. I was her therapist because whenever things went wrong, Darlene would head for me, sit down and play melancholy music. I made her feel better. And when something wonderful happened, as it often did, Darlene would again head for me and play lilting music. That gave me so much joy that I tried my best to use a lovely tone. I didn't mind when Darlene was angry and pounded out loud smashing chords; as a therapist I knew she needed the release.

I have only had one owner and not many pianos can say that. I am so proud that Darlene kept me, a lowly upright, and didn't trade me in on a baby grand. I know she thought about it sometimes as I aged, but, happily, Darlene knew that sometimes old things are better than new ones. We share memories that a snooty baby grand could never have.

Now I am old, battered and my lovely tone is no more. Darlene and I have aged together and we both have our share of infirmities, but my hammers still work and Darlene can still enjoy me once in awhile. What more can a piano ask?



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16 comments:

Nancy said...

Darlene,

I really enjoyed reading this post by your wonderful,scratches and all, piano.

Whenever asked what I would do differently if I had my life to live over, I never fail too say that I would learn to play the piano.

Consider yourself extremely fortunate that you can play beautiful music....

Looking to the Stars said...

I love the way you did your post. How creative of you and what a wonderful and beautiful way of telling it. I love the pic!
I wanted to play the piano, my father took me to a recital at the Broadmoor and I fell in love with the paino. I can still see the two blonde girls that played and the song they played, which I can't remember the title of, is the song from the movie BIG with Tom Hanks where he plays the huge piano keys.
Well, I never learned to play. What a great gift you have :)

20th Century Woman said...

Oh that was really lovely. As lovely as beautiful music. I envy your ability to play. A wonderful release.

Joy Des Jardins said...

This post is a GEM Darlene....really creative. I have always wanted to learn how to play the piano and wished I had one when I was a kid. I use to go to my Aunt's house and play on her piano...one very similar to yours. I envy you the talent to sit down and play the piano whenever you want Darlene.....I would just love that.

I just love the picture of your son in his diaper sitting there....that is too precious.

Claire Jean said...

What a wonderful story, Darlene. Many years ago, my husband and I purchased a piano from a couple who moved into a retirement home. The piano was very precious to them, especially the husband. Unfortunately, he could no longer play and since they needed more space in their new home they made a very painful decision to sell the piano. After several visits to their home and introducing them to my daughter, the one who would be learning to play, they said if it had to go, they felt comfortable with our family as the new owners. It was a most emotional and difficult transaction for all.

Darlene said...

*Nancy - It's not too late to learn to play. Rent a piano, get a good teacher and have fun.

*Looking to the Stars - I once played a duet with my best friend and we were trying not to giggle. It was a terrible experience because we were both so nervous. No more public duets with friends for me.

*20th Century Woman - Thank you for your kind comment.

*Joy - Golly, you warm my heart. I took that picture of Mark with an old brownie box camera. I wish digital SLR cameras had been available then; it would have been so much better.

*Claire Jean - Yes, a piano is special and painful to part with. Does your daughter still play?

Nancy said...

What's this I read about you meeting the author of "From Here To Eternity?"

Please tell us that story........

kenju said...

Darlene, this was a very creative way to write about your piano. I still miss our Baldwin baby grand; the one mom sold when I was in college, so she could buy a Hammond organ. Pooh! I still have that, but I'd much rather have my Baldwin!!

One Woman's Journey said...

Darlene, I love this story.
It is a masterpiece. Held my interest totally. I am usually a speed reader but I read this slowly and it made me smile.

Ugich Konitari said...

Darlene,

This is such a great post. And it is so wonderful that music is such a BIG part of your life.... I wish we could here you play. ..

(It can be done you know. See This

Its a 8 year old child playing Bach. His mother recorded it and put it on her blog. maybe you can do that we acn hear it ?.....

Gary White said...

Great story, Darlene. I'm checking in from time to time on your blog. Also enjoyed the desert in bloom in the previous post.

Darlene said...

*Nancy - Done and did.

*Kenju - I played the Hammond Organ when I was in High School and later as a church organist. I agree; I would take the baby grand over an organ any day of the week.

*One Woman's Journey - Thank you for the very nice comment.


*Ugich - I think not. My piano holds the tone (Like I am keeping the damper pedal on, but I'm not) and I have had new pads put on, adjusted, etc. and it still sounds terrible. I am also rusty and you would be disappointed in my rendition. We're both too old for a performance now.)

*Gary - You are too kind, Sir.

Mortart said...

Darlene, what a wonderful story! One of the major regrets in my life is that I refused to take piano lessons when I was a kid because it interfered with playing ball.

Vagabonde said...

I enjoyed your story very much. During the war my father acquired a player piano from a Jewish family who needed cash. It was a beautiful piano and you wouldn’t have guessed that it was a player piano. My father used to love placing Chopin or Brahms piano rolls in it, and since the piano was in the sitting-room where I slept, this is the only music I heard until I was 7 or 8. I regret now that I could not have had it moved to the US when my father passed away and mother had to sell it. It had to be moved from our 6-floor apartment in Paris, through the window as it was so large

LadyLuz said...

A great post, Darlene, very creative. It gave me much enjoyment.

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