On Friday night we huffed and we puffed and we brought home our piano. Our living room is complete; I smile each and every time I walk through the room, still shocked to have realized this lifelong desire. We have a piano.
No, none of us play. Officially. But it’s getting plenty of play time, even out of tune as it is. It is old and beautiful and substantial and it wasted no time at all fitting in perfectly. I recognize it as a fantastic tool for learning, very visually, how music theory works. In addition to its status as an instrument, of course. I can’t wait to learn it all myself.
Last night it became the site of a spontaneously-composed score for a play that Isadora conceived for us all. It was an instrumental play, set to the intuitive playing of Isadora except while she took the stage as the young girls who find themselves attacked by zombies. Zombie 1 was played by Errol, perfectly, and Zombie 2 was played by me, but I needed much coaching to arrive at the perfect zombie gait. Could I please try to model my movement more closely after Errol’s zombie? the director tactfully asked. He graciously coached me on the spot. More like a stiff-legged toy soldier, less like a Thriller extra. Got it. Captain Daddio was the priest who presided over the funerals of the zombie victims and I was also the lone mourner. All of this took place in a haunted house. (gosh, we love the Halloween theme around here)
The moment Isadora hit the opening notes – an eerie rendition of a clock striking midnight – I knew the piano had just paid for itself tenfold, even if the total cost was only $10 and a chicken dinner to compensate our movers.