Dead cats and an autumn moonlight fantasy

(Many of you remember my sister Solveig -- Sam was your nickname for her, Sosie is ours. She graduated a year after we did at Jefferson. She's now a technical writer for Oracle in Silicon Valley where she lives with her husband, Bill and dog, JD. Their son, Zachary, abandoned the nest a few years ago, but continues to live nearby. Sometimes Solveig gets bored writing technical stuff and delights her family and others with written observations of life around her. I thought bloggers might enjoy reading the email she broadcast to a bunch of us the other day. It's a lot about us and the decisions we're all making these days. She just tells it better. So, pour a cup of coffee and have a laugh with us.)

My sister Becky started it. She was sad when her grand piano was taken away with its legs up in the air like a dead cat. She made me think about my Sohmer, a walnut upright grand that we bought in August, 1972, for $1,346.80. Think about it, what did you pay that much for in 1972? We lived in Baltimore then, and bought the piano in Washington DC. 1972 was the 100th anniversary of the Sohmer piano company, and when you get deep inside the piano, there is an insignia stating this and many of the metal parts are in commemorative gold. A piano restorer might appreciate this, but the piano player can't see it.

Your children will thank you
The Sohmer came with a pamphlet that read "Your children will thank you all their lives if you let them learn to play the piano while they're at The Learning Age." As a Montessori directress, I knew all about the Sensitive Periods that children have for learning, the tactile periods, the language acquiring periods, the aural vs visual times. Ahhhhh. I would have that thankful child, and I'd even provide the Suzuki method to counteract the genetic shortcomings in the "play by ear" category. Little did I imagine I'd have a child with a singular sentiment, "I hate the piano. I just hate it."

At this spectacularly special time in our lives when we are considering what to do with all the stuff we've accumulated, I've wondered what I'd do with my piano. Dispose of it like a dead cat? Or, have some wonderful last days with it? Ahhhhh, the seeds of fantasy blossomed quickly and I imagined wheeling my lovely piano out on the deck and having an autumn moonlit dinner accompanied by sweet, live music, provided by none other than the best pianist our family has ever produced. But alas, the 2005 calendar of Nephew Steve and Aunt Solveig did not jibe, so music will not jive. No Plein Air Music this month.

Consequential to realizing this fantasy, I had contacted several people to find a good piano tuner. Our itinerant piano tuner Marvin, recommended by my Ukranian piano teacher 29 years ago, used to come annually from northern California in his RV. And annually, he'd tune and tell of his current money-making idea, from home dry-cleaning to selling currency on the global clock to managing retirement homes for only the wealthiest of the elderly. Marvin never actually realized any of these business plans, but every year he had a new one to reveal over the dinner I'd prepare, since somehow he was only able to schedule us at meal time.

Eventually Marvin disappeared and piano playing was replaced by gardening and travel.

The highly recommended David Ablarada arrived today and it was anything but the piano tuning I expected. I'd arranged to work at home, the dog was unusually well behaved, and David spewed forth for four hours with more information than I could put in a 100-page manual. First he stripped the piano of all its beautiful walnut skirts and tops to do his evaluation. He apprised me of what should be done after lo these 34 years: A cleaning, a pitch raising, a tuning, and, in another visit, a regulation. In rapid-fire delivery, he reviewed the business evolution of piano manufacturers, from the Chicago-New York centric piano world to the current Asian center, describing the downward-spiraling Sohmer empire with an emphasis on the Sohmer gent he met, not the Robert Sohmer who signed my Guarantee. Alas, the piano I purchased can no longer be got. He showed me all the parts and how current manufacturing takes shortcuts to produce a facsimile of my piano.

Unlike the violin and red wine
Now remember, like a car, a piano's value deteriorates with each minute of life, unlike the violin and red wines. The 8-hour Regulation is somewhat like a facelift, attempting to bring the piano back to its youth. Given the pricetag of The Regulation, I asked David, errrrr, given that I wasn't so sure my son would have any sentimental appreciation of this hated instrument, ahhhhhh, just what finanacial value does it have? What value am I trying to protect with $825 of maintenance? David replied that well, actually, I'd never get my money out of the piano (yes, he's right, I'd die or dement before I'd sell it), but if I were to buy a new piano today in this category, it would only be $6,000. So I said go ahead with the first $225 of work and we'd talk about the rest later.

David said he'd need to take The Action (all the hammer action, wooden parts and felt pads) out on the deck to blow it out. "After 30 years, there will be a lot of dust in this." I plugged in his Oreck outdoors and then stood back. "If you want to watch, you'll have to stand back farther. Really, I do this all the time and 30 years of dust gets nasty." He blew and it didn't look like much. He blew a second and third time and still not much. "Hmmm, well, hmmm. I guess you keep a really clean house." Put that in my obituary.

Regulate to the fullest
Then he raised pitch and tuned with an electronic device that replaces the old tuning fork while I sent enough emails back to my employers at Oracle to convince them I was being productive. The piano sounded progressively better. Finally, he was finished, -- except for the key that he'd take back to the shop to repair. I requested more information about The Regulation and he demonstrated the difference that would be made by repairing one of the felt pads. "OK, OK, come back and regulate to the fullest." David said actually the piano was in much better condition than he'd expected for 34 years and he reduced his price. "But I will still spend a full 8 hours on it." I agreed and said I'd make us lunch the scheduled day.

"Now that I've tuned it and I hear what you have, I will tell you that for this sound, which will be even better after my next visit, you'd have to pay $15,000 for a grand today to equal it. So if you sell it, hold out for the person who can appreciate this sound." (You got that Zach? If I dement, do not sell on E-bay.)

As for My Fantasy, David advised that I would need to get piano movers to move the Sohmer to the deck and then back indoors and how they should negotiate the step, and then schedule the tuning for just before the performance. "I see why you'd want to have such a party. It would be wonderful out here. But you might consider hiring a keyboardist who would bring their own electronic keyboard. It would be so much simpler." He gave me details as to the weight of the piano and the spindly nature of the legs and decorative wheels only intended to move the piano an inch or two. I understand the general physics of this and give thanks to the gods that allowed us all the stupid (unprofessional) moves to date, including several recent relocations within our house.

David will return in a couple weeks with the repaired key and will then Regulate the piano for a day. Kind of a Spa Day for the piano, a rejunvenation. So dear Nephew Steve, can you bring your Keyboard sometime for an outdoor party? Or can you come at Christmas for some caroling around a rejuvanated piano standing EXACTLY in place? I think I might get out my old piano music. Who cares if I'm not great, if I'm happy? As Bill says so kindly to me, if you're enjoying yourself, what else matters?