Death of the piano
Try giving away a piano in 2018. No one wants them anymore. When the movers come next Friday, they are making a special side trip to drop ours off at the landfill. Two Men and a Truck are bringing a third man, just to safely load and unload the piano. For a little upright piano of maybe 300 to 400 pounds.
Now back in my day… ha!
In college, working for the van line, pianos memories are vivid, especially player pianos. These beasts were 900 pounds. One day, working with only the long haul driver, we unloaded a player piano… just the two of us. As we maneuvered the piano into the house, the homeowner suddenly changed his mind and demanded we put it into the basement. A polite decline escalated into multiple calls to the local office. The homeowner declared he didn’t care if the piano was damaged moving it to the basement, “If it ends up in pieces, fine, just put it in the basement.” Eventually we agreed to do it. The bare wood basement stairs were not particularly steep, and they were open on one side, so I felt I could leap out to safety if necessary. And then it began, me on the downhill side, the piano slowly tilting down. With the full weight bearing down, we lost control quickly. My full strength, shoulder to the piano was not enough. The sound of splintering wood, the image in my mind of a lineman straining desperately to protect his quarterback as the pocket crumbled to an overpowering rush. The steps saved me. The bottom edge of the piano slowed momentarily as it impacted each step on the way down. As we hit the bottom, I was still standing. The player piano had damage only to the one side. Then I saw the stairs. Shredded wood everywhere, they would have to be replaced.
A few weeks later, we had another player piano to unload. This time, there were four of us. It was being moved to a 4th floor apartment… but there was an elevator. As we successfully, narrowly fit it into the elevator with inches to spare, we wedged ourselves on board, smiling, pushed the #4 and looked up as the elevator slowly moved…. down. There was no basement, just an elevator pit. And we were in it. Climbing up and out of the elevator, we called the elevator company, laughed, and left.
Perhaps the death of the piano is not such a bad thing.