Ghost Piano Arriving From the Past
It all started for me when I was in the 7th grade (1950) when my parents gave me an Acrostic spinet piano. Now, jump forward to about 2014. My little senior friend had grown old and was literally falling apart. It had moved with me too many times over the last 50, plus, years. My granddaughters inherited it, and I set out in search of another small piano. I turned to Bend’s only piano shop with disappointing results, and eventually ended up in the shop’s warehouse with the owner. There were no decent smaller pianos there either, so as a last ditch effort he unveiled a medium size grand. He placed himself at the keyboard and proceeded to play. The sound was beautiful, and other than it’s dark (black) finish in need of a little touch up it was tempting – and inexpensive. After days of deliberation and obsession, I decided to take it. The cleaning fee was reasonable, and it would be two weeks until it would be delivered.
Delivery day finally arrived, and when the movers brought it through the door the dull black piano I had purchased shown bright like a mirror in the sun. It had transformed to a highly polished cherry wood jewel. Its renewal was stunning, and I fell madly in love with it. The only slight dissonance here is that I am far from an accomplished pianist who should rate a grand piano. For example, this afternoon it took me about 15 minutes to plunk my way through a very simplified version of “Ode to Joy.” But never mind, there is an understory to my evolutionary rambling about my piano. It’s the best part and surfaced in researching the history of this instrument. I found that its manufacturing date was the month of January, and the year was 1939. This is so fine: January is my birth month and 1939 is my birth year. She’s a Kimberly, by brand, and it feels like I’ve found a long lost twin sister. Finally, I’m no longer an only child. Obviously I still get mushy over small and grand things.