On 14th March 1959 I turned nine years of age. A long awaited day for a highly excitable nine year old however little did I know that what I received that day would follow me for most of my life. No, I don’t mean a dog or cat, I mean a best friend in the shape of a gleaming dark walnut upright Thalberg piano.
My piano took pride of place in our beautiful lounge room in Ocean Street Hervey Bay for the next fifteen years, and thereafter many moves ensued, however I am getting ahead of myself as the piano itself has a story worth telling.
My parents obviously thought music lessons would be good for their precocious nine year old so it was that I started piano tuition with a spinster lady once a week. She left a lasting impression as she taught with a cane that tapped the back of my hands if I allowed them to droop while playing. The memories of that cane still make me shudder today and although I stayed with her for three years I was not sorry when our time came for parting. My next teacher was a lovely gentle lady (no cane) who taught me for another two years. I was a very mediocre student as I had a wayward technique and more than often played the piano by ear rather than reading the music.
As an only daughter with two much older brothers I spent a lot of time alone and through the years of practice I found my piano gave me the opportunity to vent my feelings. It gave me comfort when I was feeling down. It allowed me to dominate it when feeling angry or frustrated. I went to it to sit and contemplate just fiddling with the keys. I felt a secret happiness when playing it that no one else could experience. I enjoyed the feel of the pearly white ivory beneath my fingers. It was mine and I loved it.
When Rob married me he married my piano as well and after our marriage it was duly taken to our first home in Kingaroy, no fancy removal van just strapped on the back of a truck wrapped in blankets. It stayed in our house in Kingaroy for four years and then moved back to Hervey Bay when we built our second home, this one high-set. Steps and pianos are always a dilemma but eventually it found its spot in our new lounge room. It stayed put for four years.
Another move saw it in place in our next newly built home where it stayed for thirteen years. It was here where I took up piano lessons again at the ripe old age of 36 years old. The piano also housed some of my jewellery in a little bag suspended by string tucked away in the bowels of the beast. Ever conscious of burglary I thought this was the perfect hiding place.
When its next move came along into a new double story home with internal steps, we decided to have it installed on the top floor by crane before the veranda balustrades were positioned. A professional crane guy was duly hired and with Rob watching on my pride and joy was hoisted into the air. As if in slow motion the piano shifted in its strapping and tumbled to the ground smashing onto a pile of building debris – therefore cushioning its fall to some degree. I recall the day vividly when Rob had to tell me the news. My devastation so visible I had to go home from work immediately in a distraught state. Broken bits were everywhere but the main frame intact. I could not bring myself to see it in pieces so Rob had it taken to a repairer who ordered the walnut timber from America for the smashed pieces and recycled intact segments that were in reasonable order.
We retrieved the jewellery (still in the little bag) and six months later my piano was ready to be positioned again in our new home. It didn’t quite look the same being coated in ‘two pack’ rather than its original French polish finish but still held its key even without tuning. This time it was hauled up the internal steps by Rob, Cameron and Kent swearing that it was never to be moved again!
After nine years the big family home was sold and a smaller house in town was built. Getting it out of the high house down the internal stairs again presented problems, however no professional crane was ordered instead Rob and Glen manhandled it down and onto a trailer to be positioned in another new house for another nine years.
During my life there have been many happy hours of piano playing, duet playing with my sister-in-law and just generally mucking around on the piano. I guess what I loved most about my ‘pride and joy’ is that it was the only thing I feel that really belonged to me. My piano has been with me for fifty-six years and I still get a buzz when playing it. It is time now for another move – this time I give it to my grand-daughter Alice with the hope it gives her the same happiness and pleasure it gave me.
Jen