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"THE OLD PIANO..."
It sits inside a leaky shed on a ranch, south of
Mertzon, Texas. It has been long forgotten.
It sits among piles of debris---old newspapers, scrap
lumber, corn shucks, mouse pellets, various litter, and
most-appropriately... an old beat-up straw hat.
If you know your old pianos and ranches, you will
know that there are three nests of mice...at least,
abiding in the bottom.
How did this marvelous Kimball piano, born in 1913,
arrive at this "sorry pass?" Let's find out.....
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I am a Kimball, born in the USA, 1913.
I am a hundred years old, this year.
Brand new, I was shipped to
A girls' finishing school down
in Texas, outside Mt. Pleasant.
They played me and the girls' choir sang:
"See How the Conquering Hero Comes!"
Oh, it was fine! Have you ever heard girls
sing that one?!
My years there were nice; I was in my youth
and looked good, and the school survived
the flu epidemic and all was fine...until
The Great Depression. The school closed.
I was simply GIVEN to a VFW Hall
In the big city. WWII came and hundreds of
GI's were passing through on the railroad
and there also was a camp outside town.
A "canteen" was open every night at the vet's
hall to entertain the troops, many of whom
were headed overseas.
When the Victrola wasn't playing dance music,
Someone was playing me with dozens of
soldiers clustered around...all singing!
I loved the WWII songs, like:
"Bless them all, bless them all,
The long and the short and the tall..." and
"There'll be bluebirds over
the White Cliffs of Dover--
Tomorrow just you wait and see;
There'll be love and laughter
And peace ever after..." and
who could ever forget---
"We'll meet again,
Don't know where
Don't know when,
But I know we'll meet again
Some sunny day."
Well, we got through the Big One...
I, with thousands of fingerprints,
And coke bottle circles all over me---
Not to mention, scratches everywhere
From "Sharpshooter" and other medals.
Guys always leaning on me.
After WWII, the hall was often rented
to wedding party groups for receptions.
They--every group--it seemed had a
pianist play on me:
"Could I Have This Dance For the
Rest of My life?" I kinda liked this--
Tho' it often seemed to go on
for thirty minutes, while everyone
had to finally join in the dance...
I and the pianist were both--
played out.
Then one sad day, in the fifties
I lost my home.
Someone gave a brand new piano
To the veterans...a gift...
Where would I go? What would
become of me?
Wait! One of the vets, a deacon
Said: "We need a piano in my
Sunday School---here's a hundred
dollars for this old beat up one."
(And I heard THAT!)
This was about 1953 and
I was going on forty years old.
Let me say, by then I needed
a good polishing, to oil and preserve
my finish...And more than that I
needed a good tuning. I must've
been a step low... and goodness
knows---I felt it!
They hauled me down
to that church, and guess what?
My new home was downstairs
in a basement!
I was heavy. Six men started
carrying me down those stairs.
I was on a slant and two men at
the bottom were supposed to be
the Star Lifters! But they were Wimps!
They dropped me and I bounced
down those stairs, all the way
to the landing.
My cover fell off the front
and I vaguely remember uttering
some awful chords as I thumped,
thumped, thumped to the bottom
My wood, along the bottom was torn
and scarred---my soft pedal ached
for days!
No one seemed to care...much.
Maybe pianos are just....
A necessary evil...to some people.
They finally got me onto a rolling
gizmo and wrestled me into
my new home--- a big dark basement
room---cold and dank...
There I sat, in the darkest dark,
week in and week out...
just waiting until Sundays came---
I became a religious piano.
How I loved it on Sundays when my
Pianist played:
"Leaning On The Everlasting Arms," or
"Sweet Hour Of Prayer," or
"Softly and Tenderly Jesus Is Calling."
Well, this went on for forty long years---
I was approaching eighty,
and had never been tuned.
I judge that generations of kids who grew up
in Sunday School, singing to my notes---
Today sing flat, because I was never tuned.
(I couldn't help it.)
They believed: "Once tuned--always tuned."
I was getting old. The years were adding up!
And that church got a whole new set of
Hamilton studio pianos for its Sunday Schools---
Nice, low, sleek, walnut-colored, beautiful
Pianos...all newly tuned from the factory.
Somehow, don't ask me how---I wound up
In a greasy-spoon honky-tonk cafe
South of town on the highway!
On weekends they paid a piano player
Wearing a twenties boater, to play
Swingy things, such as:
"Alexander's Ragtime Band,"
"O Susanna," and old-fashioned stuff.
I must've been there for about ten years.
And I was tired of the place..and the smells.
If a piano could get drunk, I was drunk
From the liquor smells.
One day, I don't know why: they just
Gave me to a customer---a rancher
Who lived down there south of Mertzon...
Texas Hill Country. He hauled me away.
He was giving his daughter piano lessons
in town. she played me until she grew up
and left home.
Then they moved me
To the barn---a nice barn too.
It was mostly floored...
And they occasionally had
"Sangin's," fiddlers, and square
dancing out there!
I liked those events but I was about
played out. I was 95 years old.
One day they moved me to
an old storage shed. It leaked,
and no one ever closed the door.
Cold winds, dirt, and trash blew in---
Snow even settled on me in winter.
My front fell off, and one day they
took it away for something...maybe
firewood--who knows?
I was completely exposed
My wood faded and peeled.
I was a mere shadow and shell
of my youthful days.
What do folks do with old pianos?
I'll tell you what: they don't even
think about them!
They just left me, unremembered,
there in the old drafty, leaky shed.
I'm the home to several families of
mice.
From a girls' finishing school
To a Veterans' Club
To a church
From there to a Honky-Tonk
To a ranch parlor
To a barn---
and at age 100
To a cold, drafty, leaky shed...
Is this some kind of metaphor
for life? Is this the way it is...
With everybody?
Things don't always work out
The way we hope...
I was well-built
I was well varnished
I came from a good home
I had good felt, good parts,
and nice ivory keys...
had shiny gold pedals
I was sent out with hopes
and dreams...
I had promise
and great expectations...
"I COULDA BEEN A CONTENDAH!"
("But time and chance happeneth to them all."
Ecclesiastes 9:11)
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BY MIL
10/04/13
