tickle those ivories

 Today is Piano Day.  It falls on the 88th day of the year for the number of keys on a piano.  I have had a long and checkered relationship with pianos.  When I was about 11, my mother bought an old upright piano and I took lessons.  She must have gotten a good deal on that piano because we certainly didn't have much money to spare.  My mom was  quite a good pianist.  Sadly, I was not.  I suspect it has something to do with having no sense of rhythm and being tone deaf.  That piano was put in my bedroom, the only place where there was room for it.  Later, my dad remodeled the house, creating a hallway but also making it impossible to move that piano out of the house.  Years later, when my father sold the house, the piano stayed until the buyers figured out how to get rid of it.  I was told they broke it into pieces and threw them out the window.  I don't know if that's true.  One summer (I must have been about 13) my glamorous cousin from Philadelphia came to visit.  She was a beautiful blonde who at one point in her young life played piano and sang in a night club.  While she was visiting she played that old piano like it had never been played before.  I think my father thought her music was a little too wild and loud but my brother and I thought it was wonderful.  Many years later I decided that my son should take piano lessons and I bought, you guessed it, an old heavy upright piano.  I clearly remember the language the movers used as they moved it into our house.  That was just the first of many moves and much strong language.  It actually was a good piano with a solid sound board and good tone.  Unfortunately, the former owner had decided it would be improved by being "antiqued."  It was a fad in the 70s.  To be continued.....