Lest we forget

[A440A@aol.com]

Greetings all,

Newton asked if we are all too busy,  well , probably............

      I once heard a technician say that he kept what he found in pianos that
he tuned. Something about being the reward for taking the time to open the
thing up and do a quick check, etc...   I don't agree with this,  and the
following story is why.  It is a Christmas story , and it happened to me some
years ago.

     The call was for a tuning on the "family Steinway" for Christmas.  The
elderly lady was having her two sons and their families for the holidays.
 The piano had not been tuned in the 30 years since her husband died. (1947)
    I tuned it, no more than a 30 cent raise, but enough to wake up the bass
strings a little, and it sounded good.  I then pulled the blocks and took of
the fallboard.  There was a pencil, (of course!), and some small bits of
paper,  but it looked ok.  Then I noticed something laying on the action
stop.  Upon retrieval,  I saw that it was a St. Christopher medal,("the
Protective Saint")  and there was a date on the back.  I put it on the music
rack, and buttoned the piano back up.
     After giving her the bill,  I said, "I found this in the piano", and I
handed her the medal.   She stopped still, then seemed to dissolve,  as she
began a controlled fall into the nearest chair, sobbing.
      Obviously this was something I was not prepared for.  I just said I was
sorry that she had been so saddened, and cried along with her as I waited.
 This is the story she told me.

     In  December of 1943,  she and her husband celebrated Christmas eve with
their three sons, all of whom were going into their  service duty on New
Years Day.  Three good looking officers, one in the Air Force, one Army, one
Navy.  They gave each of their sons a St. Christopher medal that night, and
as they had done all their life, sang as a family quartet, with Pop playing
the piano in the living room.
     The next morning there was a medal missing.  It was the one given to the
youngest son, who was the Navy officer.  He had always been the wild son, the
"live for today"  kind of guy.  They searched the  entire house for his
medal, but never found it. Three weeks later, his ship was torpedoed and sunk
with all aboard.
     The mystery of his missing medal had always been associated with his
loss at sea, and after the black bordered telegram arrived that January, Pops
never played the piano again.  His health began to fail, and he passed away
in grief  that summer.
    Aside from the occasional plink by a grandchild,  the piano sat unused
until that cold night in 1977, when the two boys were going to be back.  Why
had she decided to tune the piano this Christmas? I don't have the answer to
that.

     As we go into peoples homes  and deal with their instruments, we often
see the pianos as combinations of downbearing and,  key height, hammer
density and pinning friction.  Often this is not how the owner sees their
instrument, but rather as a very personal part of their life, a record of
their family history.  They associate things with their pianos that we cannot
possibly hope to ever fully grasp.
    I hope  we all can remember,  that what is a technical artifact to us can
be something entirely different to the owner.  There are spirits of loved
ones, and memories of childhoods in these instruments.  And that is the real
value of the music and the things used to make it.

     If there is someone that we love, make sure they know it,  it will make
life richer for both.  If we feel a hardness in our heart toward some other
person, may we look for the tremedous benefit that comes from forgiving.

    I wish all of this list a happy holiday season,  I am certainly happy to
be here, amongst a group like this.

Regards,
Ed Foote
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