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If there was one thing I wish I could do, it would be play an instrument. Preferably the piano. Violin might be nice, too. I did take violin lessons in elementary school, but didn’t continue them when we moved from Ohio to Utah.

Piano

‘scuse the dust! We have a swamp cooler and I do NOT dust every day!

Owning and playing the piano was actually one of the things on my bucket list. For five years I nagged our pastor at our old church to sell me an old upright we used in the fellowship hall. It had been left over from when the building was built and first used. I prayed fervently for my piano, and finally Bill sold it to me for $500. I was over the moon!

First thing I did was have the piano tuner we used at church come check the innards out. They were in surprisingly good condition, he said. The only thing wrong was that two of the three pedals didn’t work. But for learning, he thought it was a grand buy. The cabinet was kind of beat up from having folding tables shoved into it (rather behind it). There was a hole about the size of a baseball in the side. But the rest of the ebony black cabinet was beautiful. And, in fact, inside he found a plate engraved with the original manufacturing information. The piano was made in Indiana in 1927. A Kimball, that particular factory just happened to be located right next door to the Kimball furniture manufacturer. Thus the beautiful, heavy duty cabinet.

It cost me a small fortune to have it moved, the damaged side repaired, and the whole thing (including the original bench) refinished. It took the guy who restored it three months, but when I finally got it home (after they nearly took out our banister in the living room getting the sucker up the stairs), it matched our furniture beautifully.

So off I went to piano lessons. WHY, you are probably asking (especially in light of the prompt!), did I want to play a musical instrument? Emotional release. I have several friends who play piano, and my son played both trumpet and French horn; and with all of them I had noticed when they were feeling down or very happy, they always turned to their instruments of choice to either magnify or bleed off those emotions. I really needed that outlet. I was writing crappy poems, but that just didn’t cut it for me.

I remember watching my friend Jan play one day when she didn’t know I had come in. She was sad (which was why I was there), and as she played a piece of music that was very dramatic, her eyes were closed, her head was held high, and she was crying. Lordy how I coveted that release.

Well, I was a wee bit too late to the party for learning to play piano. Over the years as I churned out cross stitch after cross stitch, I had turned into a perfectionist. In the end I couldn’t get through one bloomin’ elementary piece of music without stopping and starting over when I made a mistake. Ida Mae, my teacher, finally suggested I keep playing for my own “enjoyment” but didn’t feel I was getting anywhere. The only emotion I was experiencing was mega frustration! So after two years, I bagged it.

I can’t say I’m sorry I bought the piano, which in the end cost nearly $2400 to have restored (including the price of the piano). It’s a beautiful piece of furniture and picture holder. But to this day I’m STILL looking for that elusive SOMETHING to give me the emotional release I’ve always needed. Maybe someday I’ll find it… In the meantime I just continue to write crappy poems! ๐Ÿ˜€

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