Spending as much of my younger years at my grandmother's house as I did, there is no shortage of stories and memories. I wish I had a time machine to go back to about the year 1981 - don't we all? - and photograph the home's interior. One room, in particular, we would humorously refer to as the museum. There were all sorts of things one wasn't allowed to touch, especially if one was under the age of twelve. And even then, you would somehow sense that it was a naughty thing to get too close to the antique china or bulging blue porcelain vase that sat on an "antique" cherry wood table.
Everything was antique in that room. Everything was polished with the strangely delightful odor of Lemon-scented Pledge. And therefore, fingerprints were easily discernible. There was one item in the museum that I was allowed, no, required to touch. The Baldwin baby grand piano. My parents started me on lessons when I was around six years old. Since my after-school destination was Grandmother's house, it only made sense that I should devote at least forty-five minutes of my afternoon towards practice there Monday through Friday.
As a child, you don't normally adopt an appreciation for the craftsmanship that goes into creating an instrument like this one. The burgundy wood casing, the ivory keytops that were one at a time coming unglued, and the creaking storage bench with its collection of hymnals and dated instructional books - all of these and more I was able to experience daily as I worked out my major and minor scales and arpeggios.
As a child, you don't normally adopt an appreciation for the craftsmanship that goes into creating an instrument like this one. The burgundy wood casing, the ivory keytops that were one at a time coming unglued, and the creaking storage bench with its collection of hymnals and dated instructional books - all of these and more I was able to experience daily as I worked out my major and minor scales and arpeggios.
Although this piano was in Margaret Dunaway's home, it originally belonged to her mother, Julia Mae Maraman. I called my great grandmother "Mimi". And although she passed away in 1980, I still have a few poignant memories of her.
I think she tried to play the instrument a little, but I never got to hear this. Perhaps for this reason I was encouraged to start studying the piano the following year. When my family and I decided to move to Taiwan in 2012, it was hard for me to part with the piano. We were uncertain as to what the future held for it. Would we have to sell it? Should we put it in storage for a few years? Neither of these options seemed the right thing to do. |
Finally, my dear aunt - Margaret's daughter - was pleased to take it into her home. She had the piano appraised, and it turns out that this piano was actually made in 1925. I don't think Mimi bought it brand new, though I suppose it's possible. Either way, this beautiful piece of history somehow made it into her possession. It is still with us to this day, a treasure of the past, her past and ours.