One of my father's prize possessions was his baby grand Steinway. He bought it sometime when I was a kid - sometime in the 1970s, I think. We must have had another piano before that, but I don't remember.
I think I can speak for my siblings, in this case, to say that we will always think of that piano as one of the things that symbolizes our father - his love of music, his ability to play any jazz standard by ear.
We won't be able to think of the piano without thinking of Christmas Eve parties, when we shouted out requests and my dad played his renditions of Blue Christmas, Route 66 and Paper Moon.
One of the things I love about the Steinway was that my dad was so proud of it. He definitely believed that owning the Steinway established him as a member of the musical elite. It wasn't referred to as a piano or even a baby grand, it was always "the Steinway."
The fate of the piano is now up in the air. Any of the five of us would like to have it, but it ultimately belongs to my mom, who will probably sell it. My dad had been talking about unloading it - he didn't play it anymore and I think seeing it made him sad.
Of course, he never did take the steps to sell it, recently using the excuse that the Steinway market was in a downturn. In truth, I don't think he could ever have parted with it.
On Tuesday, September 16, Henry Z. Steinway, the last Steinway to run the piano-making company, died.
When I heard the news, all I could think of was how my father would have responded to the news. It would have been the first thing we talked about when I got home from work. He would have said something about how most people aren't well-informed enough to know or to care about the death of a Steinway. An elitist to the last.
But I wouldn't have pointed out his snobbery. I would have been proud that I was "well-informed enough" to know what was going on in the world of elite piano-making.
I didn't realize it, but I guess that 40 isn't too old to still want to be Daddy's little girl.
Oh well.
3 comments:
Oh, don't sell the piano. Have a silent auction amongst the children and highest bidder gets the piano and Mom gets some income. Check the "used prices" online first.
A friend of mine, a really fine pianist, took lessons here in Indianapolis from a man. When he died, his daughter inherited the piano.
Then, one day out of the blue, my friend got a call saying, "Would you like to have Daddy's piano?" My friend is/was so absolutely touched.
A Steinway can last almost forever with the right upkeep (which really isn't too expensive) and maybe some day one of the GRANDCHILDREN will want the piano.
From what I recall you used to play that Steinway beautifully. You can always take lessons again. To hell with selling it. It belongs where it is. That piano is part of us, part of the family. When we see it we remember Papa. To get rid of it for money, not an option. Not all of us in the family would be happy to take it. It belong where it sits. Some things are sacred. You will always be FiFi, you will always be Daddy's little girl. I miss him too. We all do. And, please keep your blog going. I check it daily. Love, Carl
P.S. Next time I visit I want to see the Steinway...
Thanks, Carl. I actually inquired about piano lessons this week at the place where Wolfgang takes guitar lessons. I think I'd like to start again - good therapy, I suppose.
The piano is Mom's, though, and she does have the right to sell it if she wants. I like Mike's idea of the silent auction, but who's got the money?
-Putzy
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