Hello Piano

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Recently I inherited a piano from a good friend of a good friend.  It sits snuggly in the corner of my living room.

Yesterday I had the piano tuned for the first time in 20 years.

The gentleman arrives, proud to be tuning piano’s for 52 years – 52 YEARS!  He is slightly stooped and tells me how thankful he is that at 72 he is still able to get out and do the thing he loves – tune piano’s.

He follows me into the living room and I point to the piano.  He puts down the case he has brought along. It looks similar to a traveling farm animal vet case.  It is a gently worn, hard, black leather covered case.

He sets out on his business of tuning my piano.

He plays a little ditty and promptly clicks his tongue and makes a disapproving noise.

He takes the top cover off and promptly clicks his tongue and makes a disapproving noise.

“Lots of dust,” he briskly comments.

I grab the vacuum, plug it in, turn it on and hand it to him.

He puts his hand over the end of the vacuum to check the suction and promptly clicks his tongue and makes a disapproving noise.

“You may also need a cloth,” he stoically states.

I grab a cloth and help him wipe down the inside of the piano and then I slither off like an unworthy child to my kitchen.  I sit silently and peer around the corner to watch him work.

He progresses with the tuning.

“This is a good little piano and it will be alright with some care,” he announces after an hour and a half of tuning.

Before he leaves he gives me a few additional tips and suggestions.

1. Play my piano
2. Have my piano tuned regularly
3. Buy a humidifier for the winter time and if I am really serious like he is, install one on my furnace!
4. Buy a new vacuum

 

And then there was Adam

Oh Adam, if I could I would put you in my pocket and take you home.

Young, interesting, funny and not yet tinged by that thing we call love. He’s old enough to be out on his own, to go to college and to have solid dreams. He wants celebrity, to take his team, his country to the global stage and I support his plan!

He finally cut his hair and gosh he’s super proud of it.

“You remember?”, he quizzed me not letting me answer, “I had long hair, so long that when I put my hat on I had horns!”

And he demonstrated to me just exactly what hair horns looked liked. Clenching both fists and holding them just below his hat line.

He laughed and excitedly removed his hat. He had a twinkle in his eye and he shouted with glee only a 20-something, pure-hearted young man could, “I have Mafia hair! My hair is still long on the top, see”, and using his left hand he swept the long bangs diagonally across his forehead.

He was so happy, interested in living, the best way to describe him is he was ecstatic to “shoot-the-shit” with whoever walked through the door. And that my friends is exactly what we did that I almost didn’t finish my “smoothered-in-ketchup” cheese dog before it got cold.

I wanted to squeeze his cheeks, encourage his self to stay young, stay spontaneous and free, to continue talking to the motley of strangers that will cross his future path and to keep on smiling with his eyes.