A visit to the piano store

It began with a guitar string. My wife needed one, so the two of us went to the excellent local music store, West Music. We went to the guitar and pop music end of the building, she got her string, and we spent a few minutes in the guitar room, where she tried out an instrument.

That was enough excuse for me to drag her to the far end of the store: the pianos. To my surprise, it was the annual Steinway Extravaganza, when the company ships in many of their higher-end grand pianos for a few days. I happened on this event one time a few years ago. That time, I was thinking in terms of the church and its needs. This time, it is for me; a piano of my very own.

But not a high-end Steinway. For the first time in my life, we could in theory drop $80 or $90 grand on a piano, but that would be from retirement savings and it would be imprudent. I played a few notes on the “Legends Tour” concert grands that had been played by a variety of famous people and moved on to a Steinway Model B for a couple of minutes. It was a terrific piano (as I described in the link above). The store was busy and my wife was itching to go, so that was it. In the car, I mentioned that I would like to have a piano when we retire, a thought which I had never dared voice.

Silence.

I dropped the subject. Several hours later, she brought it up, having had time to think about it. First, she reminded me that we are not going to spend that kind of money on a piano. And that the sound of a piano hurts her ears. Second, I am aware that it would be a large imposition on her for me to practice for hours at home. Her instrument – classical guitar – is much kinder to fellow householders than a piano. My playing would impose on neighbors as well, if we end up in a town-house or apartment, which is likely.

Having hosted the jazz department for eight years at the church, I am aware that it would also be an imposition for me to seek arrangements with a nearby church for any serious amount of daily piano (or organ) practice, if I am not working as their musician. One or two days a week might be possible: every day? Not so much.

But if I am not working, why do I want to practice? That is the part which my wife had not considered; she thought (and probably hoped) that I would never want to play again. I sometimes thought that too until a few months ago. For a funeral, I had to learn a Mozart sonata in the span of a couple of days. I had not played that sort of music for decades, and it awakened a longing – I could return to the piano and play Mozart. And Haydn, and Beethoven. Schubert, whom I especially loved. Chopin. Liszt. The Bach suites, the Well-Tempered Clavier, the Goldberg Variations, which I played in concert half a lifetime ago.

It was the first time I had looked toward retirement with any glimmer of hope or vocation. Would anyone want to hear me play? Probably not. There are already too many pianists in the world. But I think of Messiaen’s statement: “An apple tree makes apples. I make music.” I have known apple trees – including one I planted, decades ago, near what is now an abandoned farm house – whose fruit is ignored, left for the wild animals. That does not stop them from doing what God made them to do.

I understand why my wife might hope that I would close the fallboard and walk away. For thirty-plus years she has followed me through several job-related moves. She has almost never had a weekend with me, not since our honeymoon. We go weeks at a time with our paths crossing briefly with hardly a chance for two sentences. I think she would like to see her husband a little more often. I would like to see her, too; she is my favorite person and best friend. And it is true: for medical reasons, piano and organ music does hurt her ears, along with other loud noises. She has reason to dread having a husband who wants to practice.


Well, then: what to do about an instrument? As we passed through the Steinways, I saw the store’s Yamaha digital grand with its price tag of $14,999 (list price: $20,000). I thought about it: Headphones. Volume control. Still a lot of money, but not an impossible sum.

To be continued…