I survived the weekend-o-fun. Thanks for the concern. Other than the hour we were missing 5 teenagers in a busy downtown hotel...it was a rousing success.
It's my day off today and that means one of three things is happening. I'm in a coffee shop. I'm shopping for home decor. I'm sitting at home with a service man.
Any guesses?
That's right...it's door number three. Bob, tell them what they've won!
Okay, so you don't win anything but I will share the experience. This story is mostly for my relatives.
It all started way back when. I was in the 2nd grade and my mom taught school in California. Each classroom had a short little organ that they used for music class. I started piano lessons from a strange little old man who used to record our lessons on a cassette tape. I guess so I could listen to it during the week. I would practice on that little organ in my mom's classroom while she graded papers and worked on lesson plans.
We moved to Chicago when I was in the 3rd grade. We lived in an apartment and I took lessons from a seminary student's wife who lived down or up one floor (I don't remember which). I had a key to their apartment and I could go practice even when they were gone. The little old lady that lived directly above them would open her window to hear me play. I can't imagine that my little 3rd grade skills were all that impressive but she was very sweet to listen and encourage me.
We didn't have a piano of our own so with every move, my parents got creative and found me a place to play. My sister took lessons too and decided to build her own piano out of construction paper on the fireplace hearth. I think that's when my parent's decided it was probably time to find a real piano.
My grandparents lived in Idaho and were downsizing to a smaller apartment. They loaded up their piano and drove it half-way across the country to our house in Kansas City. They even brought the painting that always hung above it.
I now have that piano as one of my most treasured possessions. It's moved with me (except to Europe but if I could have figured out a way to do it...I would have.) to my apartment, my condo, and now my new home. I play it nearly every day. During the construction, it was housed by a friend and every day I felt like something was missing (although said friend did let me come over to play it - thanks friend). This piano is my therapy, a significant part of my worship, and my creative outlet.
After many moves and many years (Manufactured in 1951) - it was time for some serious restoration. Several hammers (the part that hits the strings) were broken, several key tops were cracked and yellowed.
All the plastic parts (and there were many) were replaced with maple. All the key tops were replaced with a new finish. She got new felt, new flanges (whatever that means). She's tuned to perfection and restored to her original beauty.
All thanks to this guy. Meet Mr. Piano Man.
He took all the insides out piece by piece (that's what is on the floor). It's taken almost a month to make all the repairs.
Mr. Piano Man and I have spent a significant amount of time together today. It's his birthday. He's 71. He's told me stories about pianos and I made him pumpkin cookies. It's been delightful.
So there you go Robinson family. Just thought you'd like to see this. I know Grandma would be proud.
It's my day off today and that means one of three things is happening. I'm in a coffee shop. I'm shopping for home decor. I'm sitting at home with a service man.
Any guesses?
That's right...it's door number three. Bob, tell them what they've won!
Okay, so you don't win anything but I will share the experience. This story is mostly for my relatives.
It all started way back when. I was in the 2nd grade and my mom taught school in California. Each classroom had a short little organ that they used for music class. I started piano lessons from a strange little old man who used to record our lessons on a cassette tape. I guess so I could listen to it during the week. I would practice on that little organ in my mom's classroom while she graded papers and worked on lesson plans.
We moved to Chicago when I was in the 3rd grade. We lived in an apartment and I took lessons from a seminary student's wife who lived down or up one floor (I don't remember which). I had a key to their apartment and I could go practice even when they were gone. The little old lady that lived directly above them would open her window to hear me play. I can't imagine that my little 3rd grade skills were all that impressive but she was very sweet to listen and encourage me.
We didn't have a piano of our own so with every move, my parents got creative and found me a place to play. My sister took lessons too and decided to build her own piano out of construction paper on the fireplace hearth. I think that's when my parent's decided it was probably time to find a real piano.
My grandparents lived in Idaho and were downsizing to a smaller apartment. They loaded up their piano and drove it half-way across the country to our house in Kansas City. They even brought the painting that always hung above it.
I now have that piano as one of my most treasured possessions. It's moved with me (except to Europe but if I could have figured out a way to do it...I would have.) to my apartment, my condo, and now my new home. I play it nearly every day. During the construction, it was housed by a friend and every day I felt like something was missing (although said friend did let me come over to play it - thanks friend). This piano is my therapy, a significant part of my worship, and my creative outlet.
After many moves and many years (Manufactured in 1951) - it was time for some serious restoration. Several hammers (the part that hits the strings) were broken, several key tops were cracked and yellowed.
All the plastic parts (and there were many) were replaced with maple. All the key tops were replaced with a new finish. She got new felt, new flanges (whatever that means). She's tuned to perfection and restored to her original beauty.
All thanks to this guy. Meet Mr. Piano Man.
He took all the insides out piece by piece (that's what is on the floor). It's taken almost a month to make all the repairs.
Mr. Piano Man and I have spent a significant amount of time together today. It's his birthday. He's 71. He's told me stories about pianos and I made him pumpkin cookies. It's been delightful.
So there you go Robinson family. Just thought you'd like to see this. I know Grandma would be proud.
