Reflections on Reva’s Piano

By Marc Robinson

My reaction was to roll my eyes, though not when she could see. Why couldn't she choose something practical and cheap, like violin or clarinet?

Pianos are expensive, and we were barely breaking even as things stood. We hadn’t had a nice vacation in years; where was the money going to come from?

Then John Griffith stood up in meeting and offered Reva's piano to anyone who wanted it, free except for the cost of moving the instrument. I talked it over with my wife that afternoon, and the next week accepted John’s offer.

He invited us over, saying we should try out the piano before we took it. So one weekend afternoon we drove to his house.

I played a few chords and scales, and all the notes were in tune with each other. The action of the keys was consistent, and they were all level. The instrument seemed to be in fine shape. John told me that one of his sons was a piano technician, and had rebuilt it recently.

Getting ready for the piano was a bit like getting ready for a baby — lots of anticipation, and running around getting things ready.

The problem was space. Our dwelling is a claustrophobe’s nightmare: a small house of small rooms, with a lot of stuff inside. We gave away a book shelf in the front room, and the books that were in it, and Susan exercised some magic to move the filing cabinet to the other side of the room, behind her desk.

Then we removed the door between the room and the front hall. A week later the piano was in its place. The door to the room is in permanent exile in the garage, and we have to be careful when walking through the room in the dark, or we're likely to bark our shins on the piano bench. But what an inconsequential price for such a lovely thing!

Reva’s piano has the words “cabinet grand” painted on it. I looked this up on the Internet and discovered that cabinet grands are tall, old uprights. Piano manufacturers don’t make them that tall any more, because of the expense, and because people don't want to fill that much space in their houses. Cabinet grands often have a better sound than other uprights because of their size. Reva’s piano also has decorative carvings on it, another feature that manufacturers no longer include because of the expense.

With the piano delivered and sitting in our front room, Susan went out and bought some music and two instruction books, but I never saw or heard her play a note. Before long, though, I was practising on a regular basis. I’d had three years of lessons when I was in grade school, and that’s pretty much my history with piano. I can still read music, though. I bought Mussorgsky’s “Picture at an Exhibition,” which is the piece I would like to play above all others, and I set about trying to learn the more reasonable parts.

We’ve had the piano about a year now, and the more time passes, the more I play. Except for reading, this has become my greatest pleasure. I continue to practice the flute, but more from a sense of duty than anything else. I feel like a man with a mistress (the piano) who is neglecting his wife (the flute). The piano has such expressive range, and feels so much more natural to me, that I would give up the flute altogether, except for the thought that later I would regret doing so, as I have regretted abandoning every musical instrument I’ve ever played. There is something about the piano (and I don't know whether it’s this particular piano, or pianos in general) that feels very much like life itself, in its complexity and range. This is not easy to explain, but somehow, underlying the piano, there is a sense of mortality and time, but free of the pain and bitterness that come with actual mortality.

More than that, part of the joy of playing this instrument is my memory of its owner. I never heard her play, but I often think of her when I do. I remember that this instrument belonged to my friend, whom I loved, and whom I still miss, and whom I never will forget, whose memory will always be special to me. This piano is a bit like her: unpretentious and simple and true. I am grateful for it, not only because I have a piano on which to practice, but because it serves as a reminder of someone I admired as much as anyone I have ever known.