Fanfare for a Spinet

Great excitement in my little world! Someone in my building is moving and couldn’t afford to take their piano. They offered it free to anyone who would take it, and initially I shot a quick text to my son and daughter-in-law, as Evan is learning piano on a little Casio keyboard. They texted back that they don’t have space for it, and I sagged. I had a year of piano lessons when I was ten, and I loved it. My piano teacher, Mrs. Urdang, rose to the challenge of my missing pinky on the left hand and said we could work around it, but after the first year my mother said we couldn’t afford it.

Could I possibly learn now? At my age? With a missing finger and two arthritic thumbs?  I woke in the night staring at the ceiling, my left and right sides locked in debate. 

My right side said I’m not planning to play Bach or Chopin; I’d just like to be able to practice a few chord progressions. Maybe I can do this. 

My left side said it it’s going to be just one more dust-collector, a passing enthusiasm, a fantasy better in the imagining. What about that harmonica you got six years ago? You still haven’t learned to play it. 

My right side frowned. 

It’s a Wurlitzer spinet in a scarred vinyl case the color of baby poop. Bit of an eyesore, left side drawled. Drop-action keys. But when daylight came, right side led me downstairs and I played a few chords. It felt like heaven.

I had to move furniture around. My apartment is like a Rubik’s cube in that everything fits exactly, and if I move one thing, I have to move everything else. But I took it slowly, vacuum cleaner at my side. A piano tuner is coming Monday to clean and tune it. That’ll be $160, but a keyboard costs more than that. This is a piano.

Production of spinet pianos stopped in the 1990s because they aren’t as loud as uprights or grand pianos (better for an apartment), and the keys are less weighty (a boon for people with arthritic fingers). I went out and bought a couple of roast chickens, a couple of pounds of strawberries, salads, and some German chocolate cupcakes for the guys who moved it for me, free of charge, bless them (see extra). Here’s a portal opening up. It’s a piano portal the color of baby poop, but if I’m patient and persistent (two traits I usually have in abundance), maybe I can make a kind of simple music with some Youtube tutorials.