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My piano is dying. It is just fading away like an old relative with dementia. It feels to me like I need to go out to the back pasture, and shoot it in the head, so it won’t suffer any longer. Sigh. Seriously, I just got the news and I’m devastated.
I hired a piano tuner/repairman to come and see what needed to be done to fix our upright grand piano. When he got inside of it and messed around for a bit, he gave me the bad news. It can’t be fixed. Seems that pianos have a lifespan, and mine has come to the end of its. The metal string board is attached to a thick block of wood, allowing long screws to be drilled deep into the wood, thus holding it securely keeping the strings in tune. He attached his socket wrench to the metal piece holding a string set and showed me how it just twirled freely in the wood. Apparently, there are fatal cracks in the wood supporting my string board, and it cannot be repaired or replaced without taking apart the entire piano, and at great cost. So–his job here is done—can’t be fixed. He tightened up some of the strings that were really messed up, so I’ve played it for a couple of days, and it sounds a little better.
It’s a piano. I know. It’s not a dog, nor a horse, nor a human being. But…it’s been in my family for over 65 years. And it is 90 years old, we figured out from looking up the company that made it and using the serial number we found stamped on the metal soundboard. Also, now I feel like I may have aggravated its demise by moving here to the desert, because the ultra-dry air is definitely not wood friendly. Sigh….