Okay, all the bad that happened this week - dealing with rude representatives of a particular business, the misunderstandings, the getting the final gold crown put in (and requiring a second surprise shot of Novocaine - with its attendant heart-thumping epinephrine - because I jumped when he started to clean the stump of the tooth), the busy-ness, the mild asthma symptoms that make me feel like my lungs want to crawl out of my chest - all of it is wiped away and gone, or at the very least made far far better.

Because my piano came today.



I rushed home after class to wait for the deliverers. They called almost at the very time they said they would, to ask for final directions to my house.

It was the owner of the piano-refurbishing business (and if you have a piano practically anywhere in the continental US that needs work, they can get it and work on it, and I can vouch for their work), his 20-something son and his probably-20-something-but-looked-younger daughter.

They were very quick about getting it off the truck and set up. And they know their stuff - they have a heater in the trailer (which meant that a re-tuning turned out not to be necessary), the piano was totally swaddled up to protect it. They got it in my house with no problems at all - I was prepared to take the doors off the hinges - but that was not necessary.

They are extremely nice people. I would guess that doing that kind of work - where you are restoring something to beauty and functionality, and then getting to deliver it to a delighted recipient - probably MAKES you a nice person if you weren't inclined that way already. It seems like a happy sort of career.

Some more photographs, because I can't resist and because I canNOT believe how beautiful and wonderful it looks. This was a piano that sat for years in my grandparents' oil-heated house, and if you know anything about oil heat, it is MESSY - it leaves a scummy film over everything. And I think it may be corrosive, too, remembering the state of the "guts" of the piano (the cast-iron part the strings are attached to) before the renovation:



Seriously, this is a work of art.

The daughter - her name is Savanah - did all the lettering-painting. She said it was her favorite part of the job. She is a more patient woman than I am, apparently.

I know you never saw the piano before its renovation, but trust me - this is an incredible change and improvement. The piano wasn't trashed or anything before, but I didn't realize just how worn it was until I saw its rebirth.

The nameplate:



I'm told it is a Model L from 1927, which is older than I thought (I know my grandfather got it during the Depression; it was in lieu of payment one year).

And the keyboard. And yes, I've already done part of the day's practice on it.



The music on the stand is actually one of the books my mom sent me. It's my beloved John Shaum "Orange" book, which I never actually attained in my earlier lessons (I think this one came in a box of sheet music my dad bought at an auction) but it has so many fun "noodling around" pieces in it that I remember pushing myself to try to play them. (The book is open to "Ruben and Rachel in Society," a funny little resetting of the folk tune to mimic the styles of Mozart, J. Strauss Jr., Chopin, and finally, Sousa).

The tone of the piano is far more resonant than what I am used to. Mr. Kapteyn remarked on the good acoustics of my little living room, especially the fact that I had a hardwood floor (I didn't think about it but yes, I can see how a hardwood floor would be preferable for piano-playing than a carpet would).

I had them set it up so the keyboard end is closest to the windows in that room - so when I sit at the piano I have natural light, and I can look out the window while taking a little break from playing. It seems a pretty good set up.

I am delighted to have it. And it amazes me how little time, really, it took for this particular dream to come to fruition (well, the having of the piano. Actually being able to play well enough to satisfy myself, I am still working on that and can see working on that for a long time). I first started contemplating the desire for a piano back in 2006. My father made the original offer of the piano late in March of last year, and then there was some intermediate disappointment, but finally they found the good piano people, and plans changed yet again. The piano went off to the "piano spa" back in November, and today it begins its new life with me.

It is probably - with the exception of my house - the nicest thing I have ever owned. (It is certainly nicer, and I suspect worth more, than my car is now). It may be the nicest thing I ever WILL own.

My mother once said that when she was younger, she was always a little afraid to be too happy when something really good happened - out of fear that it would be taken care of her. But that she eventually grew out of it.

I am not afraid to be too happy about this. I just hope I can keep up with the lessons, and improve my skill, and someday (not too far in the future, I hope) be able to play Bach or Chopin or Brahms or even Vince Guaraldi on it.