Arrivals

A little more than three weeks ago, I wrote about a piano I once had on another of my blogs.  And here it is:

I wrote the earlier post on the day I learned that it might be coming to me, but I didn't want to say so as there wasn't any certainty.  Last week, however, upon acquiring the piano from her grandmother, my daughter assured me that she'd be storing it in my house, so once again this old familiar piano is back in my possession.  It's been 27 years.

Took five professional movers to get this beast moved out from its former residence into this one, which tells me how strong my friends and I were.  I suggested to the movers that I could disassemble it to some degree and they agreed ... but after such a long time, looking at the underside, I've forgotten how it comes apart.  And I don't have Michelle any more to tell me how.  Cost me a pretty penny to have it placed; I had to raise the picture in the upper right about 10 inches; the mirror on the left was fine.

The piano's width is 62 inches across the top; it's 51 inches high.  So glad that my in-laws could seize it back then, since they took such rotten care of it; in fact, it's been sitting ignored in a basement for more than 15 years, without one ounce of care.  There are chunks and bits taken out of it, there are knobs missing, though its only moderately dusty inside.  I'm surprised that it isn't more out of tune.  Going to cost me more money to have it tuned and I suppose that beyond what care I can give it myself, getting it restored is another step along the way.

I'm told it has no resale value.  Present-day musicians aren't interested in it, according to those musicians I know, while having a piano in the home hasn't the verve it did once.  The piano movers were astounded; they'd never moved a piano this heavy, nor this old, in all their experience.  As I'd said, it's more than 160 years old and it's made of real rosewood — which no piano is, nowadays, and as such they're cheap replicas that weigh much less.  The movers felt they'd earned their pay today.

But, I'm told, I'd be lucky to get a $1,000 for it if I sold it.  Which I find remarkable.  My daughter has been talking to a piano restoration company this last week and they assure her that yet, they can bring it back to its original colour ... and that's going to cost more than supposedly the piano will sell for.  If this is true, then how does the restoration company stay in business?  I think — and my daughter agrees with me — that in general, where it comes identifying the value of things, people don't know jack.

Anyway, there's no plan to sell it.  And here is the bad news.  I'm quitting D&D.  I'm going to learn how to play piano so I can become the world's oldest concert pianist.  This D&D has been a nice run, but it's all done now.  Wish me luck.