THE PIANO

I wish you could tell me about your life as a piano.

I have been told part of the story—you were built in the late 1800’s, as per your stamp inside. Then in the early 1900’s you traveled from Clayton to Sedan, NM in the back of a buckboard. You belonged to my aunt Irene Wright. At some point in time, you moved back to Clayton where, as a child, I first saw you, and instantly wanted you. When I was around 8, you came to Hartley for a short stay at our house during my ill-fated attempt to learn to play you. You later went back home to Clayton. After “Aunt Rene” passed, we purchased you from her estate and you came to live at my house, enduring a move or two.  Still, no one mastered your keys.

After 25 years of you being silent, I finally came to peace with the fact that your time had passed. I asked my hubby to dismantle you, with the intention of creating a new piece of furniture that might be more practical. A bench…a desk…a bar… (yes, a “piano bar”).  We found artifacts hiding under your keys—coins and tokens from different time periods. There was an awesome Indian/Buffalo head nickel dated 1918 that I have converted into a necklace. There was a 1920 wheat penny, a 1954 nickel, a 1964 penny, and a 1981 dime. Talk about spanning the years! There were also a couple of Colorado retail tax tokens marked with a 2. Sales tax tokens were fractional cent devices made of plastic or metal used to pay sales tax on very small purchases in many American states during the years of the Great Depression. I wonder if this might be a peek into your history…maybe at some point you lived in Colorado! But there was more evidence you had experienced the depression, as there was a ton of dirt—that fine, black stuff from the thirties. It probably contributed to your vast weight that everyone complained about when you were moved! This also reminded me that you were a true luxury during that time…a time when many struggled to stay in the area, and some even struggled to survive. I stored your pieces and a couple of boxes of keys in the attic to await a plan.

The question became, where will I put this new creation? If you are a bench, where will you sit? If you are a desk, who will write on you? If you are a bar…well, everyone else loved the bar idea, but I didn't have a need for one.  So you waited in the attic. Suddenly, a couple of weeks ago, I had an idea! I purchased the proper hardware, and here you are!  Well, it’s just your gorgeous front panel, but it feels like I’ve been visited by an old friend! Your finish is flawless, no one would guess you are 120 years old. Craftsmanship like this doesn't exist anymore. You belong here for everyone to enjoy until your next reincarnation.

Yes, I wish I could know all your stories…the conversations you have heard, and songs you have played. And perhaps you will rejoin with some of your other parts to become a bench or a bar someday, but until then...welcome home, my friend. 

Peace, friends.