The Precious

I did do one thing during my week off.

It revolved around The Precious.

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I’ve written before about my new-found love of playing the piano. A friend from my church gave me her old piano, a 1984 Wurlitzer, last August. That piano opened a whole new world for me. I started taking lessons, and found that I have a surprising facility for music. More important, I discovered that I love making music.

The minute I sit down at the piano, the world drops away and it’s just me and the sounds I can draw out of those keys. I didn’t even know where middle C was when I began. But I’ve moved on rather quickly since then. I’m not sure why, but it’s like I’m learning a language that in some odd way I already know.

I don’t practice. I just play it. Learning a new piece of music is fascinating to me, like working a puzzle.

As grateful as I was to have the Wurlitzer — and I was very grateful indeed — I was dissatisfied with it almost from the first day. I don’t know the technical language to describe it, but there was no there, there in the tone. I could change the way I touched the keys and change what it did, but nothing I could do could pull real music out of it.

I don’t know how to explain it except to say that it was limited in what it would do and the limitations wouldn’t allow me to make the sounds I could hear. I heard music in my mind that I knew I could not ever get out of this piano.

I spent hours, trolling on-line web-sites, mooning like a lovestruck teenager over the pianos I saw there. I even went so far as to contact one of them and see if he’d take my Wurlitzer in trade. Shipping costs made that a bad deal for him, which I understood.

In fact, shipping costs made buying from him a bad deal for me, as well. It costs almost $1000 to ship a piano from the East coast to Oklahoma. That’s a lot of coin to stack on top of the cost of the piano itself.

During a lunch break at work a few weeks ago, I decided to check out a local piano dealer called Larsen Music. I wanted to check the prices on a new piano to get an idea of how much a used one should cost. I did not have any plans to buy a piano when I went into that store.

But the very nice salesmen told me I could play any piano that I wanted. That’s a little bit like a car salesman offering a test drive. There is nothing like the smooth specialness of a new car with that intoxicating new car smell. If they can get you in that baby, you’re halfway to sold by the car itself.

It was the same with these pianos. I tried three of them that were in my general price range. They all cost more than I planned to spend. A lot more. But each and every one of them put my Wurlitzer in the dirt. They were all wonderful, but as soon as I touched the keys on The Precious, it was swoon time. If buttered honey was a sound, it would be the sound of this piano. If the colors of a sunset were music, they would sound this way.

It had the voice that speaks the language of the kind of music I want to play.

However, it cost a lot of money.

And I don’t have a lot of money.

Fortunately, there was wiggle room in the price. It turns out that buying a piano really is a lot like buying a car. The piano, like the car, sells itself. Then, the process of working out the deal on the piano involves — like buying a car — a bit of bargaining.

I traded in the Wurlitzer and got quite a lot taken off the asking price in addition to that. The bottom line was that I could afford it. I went home with prices and photos for three pianos. But, the one I wanted was the Kawai. I called back the next day and asked for a couple of more discounts, then agreed to buy over the phone.

The reason? I found the piano I wanted at a price I could afford. I had also learned the answer to the question I had when I walked into the store: New pianos are a better deal than used ones, especially when you factor in the expense of shipping. I had been looking at thirty-year-old pianos that, with shipping, would have cost me about a thousand dollars less than I paid for this new one. That’s not a good deal.

My new piano has a 10-year warranty, a complimentary first tuning and Larsen’s offers a 100% trade-in if someday in the future I decide to buy a grand piano.

I paid for it when I bought it, but asked the store to keep it for me until session was over because I knew I wouldn’t have time to touch it, and that if it was sitting in my house and I couldn’t play it, I might stroke out. It rained here last week, which delayed delivery a day.

But last Wednesday, the delivery guys brought The Precious.

That may be part of why I didn’t get much done last week. All I know is that they weren’t out of the drive when I started playing it, and I didn’t stop until my hands got sore.

I love this piano. It is (in case you’re interested) a new Kawai K3. I recommend Larsen’s Music to any Okie who’s looking for a piano of their own. They are good people to do business with. I think the salesman enjoyed my pleasure in the piano almost as much as he enjoyed the sale. He told me, “I saw your face when you played the Kawai. I knew that was the one.”

I stopped my lessons for the past couple of months because there was no time. I’m starting again this Thursday and I’ve got so many things I want my teacher to go over with me, I don’t know if we can fit it into an hour.

I’ll never be a great musician. But I am already a fulfilled and happy one. I am going to ask around my church and see if I can find enough interested musicians of any level of competence to put together some sort of funky Southside Papist band. That would be great fun.

The moral of this story is simple: If there’s something you want to do, do it. Don’t let wiser heads tell you that you’re too old or that it’s impractical or wasteful silliness. Above all, don’t listen when they tell you to grow up. “Grow up,” used that way, is just a synonym for “stop living.”

That advice isn’t wise. It’s an exhortation to waste life. The greatest wisdom about life is to know it and live it as the gift that it is.

Music: My Piano Hates Rain

Musical

It took me a while to figure this out, and now that I have, I’m still trying to figure it out.

It begins with the simple facts that I love the sound of rain and we’re now in the fall rainy season here in Okieland.

What that means in practical terms is that I often open the back door and shove up a couple of windows so I can hear the rain. I’ve found that I especially love the sound of the rain while I play the piano. It’s a kind of unexpected bliss.

But here’s the weirdo catch.

I noticed a couple of weeks ago that my piano had gone out of tune. It has migrated a tiny bit since I had it tuned when I first got it, but this was so gecky that I would hit a key and then hit it again and go bleh. Then, I’d decide that, even though I don’t have a piano tuning in my budget until January, I am going to call and get the blamed thing tuned because I. Cannot. Stand. This. Ugly.

The next day, it would be back in tune.

This happened repeatedly.

I began to think my piano had a poltergeist. I decided that maybe, instead of a piano turner, it needed a priest.

Then, I began to see a not-so-subtle correlation. On rainy days, when I open the door and windows and turn off the central heat and air, the piano goes out of tune. On dry days, it goes back in tune.

It’s raining today, but, in deference to my piano, I’ve left the doors shut, the windows down and the central stuff on. So far, it’s in tune.

My piano does not have a poltergeist.

It does, however, appear to have arthritis.

Breathing Lessons on the Piano

Musical

I have a new/old piano.

Despite the fact that multiple internet sources essentially tell me that someone my age is wasting their time to do this, I’m taking piano lessons for the first time.

It came about like this.

I’ve always wanted to learn the play the piano. I love music. I have what you might call an eclectic collection of music on my iPhone, ranging from classical to country. I just love good music. But one type of music I love especially is piano solos. I have hundreds of them and I play them a lot.

I wanted to take piano lessons so I could make those beautiful sounds. I wanted to be able to hear that music in the way the person who is playing it hears it.

According to a lot of experts, that ain’t gonna happen. Old bags like me are just past that sort of thing.

All I can say, is that I’m so glad I didn’t read those experts before I started taking lessons. It wouldn’t have stopped me, but the weight of their negativity would have been something I had to throw off, wasting my time and energy. As it was, it never occurred to me that there was any reason I couldn’t do this if I wanted.

Despite the fact that I’d wanted to do this for a very long time, the time was never right. We were far too broke when I was raising kids to waste money on me and my interests. Pretty much everything my husband and I wanted got put on hold so that we could provide opportunities for them.

That was a golden investment that I not only don’t regret, but I am soooo glad we made. I look at the beautiful young men I raised, and all I can tell you is that it was the best thing I ever did.

However, that nagging desire to play the piano was still there. Then, last summer, a small group of people from my parish formed an ad hoc weekly Bible study in which we got together and talked about the readings from Sunday mass. Of course, there was a lot of eating and random chatter going on as well.

One of the women mentioned that she had a friend who was trying to give away a piano. I immediately said, “I’ll take it!”

And the rest has been rock and roll.

All I can say to those internet experts who claim that old fogies like me can’t learn new tricks is pfffffttttt. I am having a wonderful time with this piano. My goal, which is simply to make it make beautiful sounds, is, I am convinced, completely within my reach.

I enjoy this so much, that it surprises me. The hardest part for me has been limiting my fingers to playing the little tunes in the lesson book. I keep hearing other melodies in my head that I want to play. My piano instructor, bless him, told me to go ahead and play those other melodies. It takes a bit of plunking around to find them on the keyboard, but when I do, it is so much fun.

So, I guess I’m playing by ear and learning to play by following notes, as well. I often end up taking the little songs the lessons give me and plunk around, expanding them into longer melodies. That is so much fun.

My only complaint so far is that I wish my piano sounded better. It’s not bad. The piano tuner said it was in great shape; “a new old piano” is how he put it. But I want to hear a rounder tone than it makes. I don’t like the sharpness of its sounds. I want it to come back at me more, to have more fullness.

I’m not really sure what I’m talking about here. All I know is that am probably going to waste some money in a year or so and buy a piano that’s way over my abilities just so I can experience the pleasure of having it make those beautiful sounds when I play it.

Will I ever be a concert pianist?

No and no.

First, no because the experts are probably right that I’ve started too late. Second, no because that is not anything I even slightly want. I understand how much work it takes to make a career of anything. I don’t want that for this.

This is breathing. Only it’s music and not air.

As for those discouraging internet experts, they should know better. There’s an old saying that no one is ever too young to die. That is true. But the flip side of it is also true: No one is ever too old to live.

Musical notes


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