On Friday night after we put the kids to bed, Dave decided to give me an early Christmas gift. I protested, but he insisted, saying that he may need the extra time to "finish" it.
He opened a small box, completely filled with thin white strips each housed in its own plastic sleeve. It took a moment before I realized they were new key tops for my piano!
When I bought the piano, the keys had ivory key tops that were becoming yellowed. After a while, one of the key tops popped off while I was playing. We put it aside for safe keeping, planning to glue it back on at some point and of course, we somehow lost it in the process. The culprit key was smack dab in the middle of the keyboard, the highest traffic area. Because of the missing key top, the key was rough and a different texture and color than the rest of the keys.
When Dave initially suggested replacing all of the key tops, I was skeptical. I knew that it would require more than just a tube of super glue. Was he capable? This is a man who has never taken a course in piano building, tuning or repair
. What's more is that he doesn't even play the piano. I mean, that would be like me, who has no knowledge of the guitar, offering to restring his prized Les Paul. Or at least, that's how I saw it.
I remembered back to when he volunteered to tune the piano, going to the lengths of buying his own tuning kit. At first I pleaded with him, saying that tuning a piano is more involved than tuning a guitar. In the end, I finally agreed to let him try tuning it.
I should have trusted him. He did a fine job and even managed to fix some of the other small but pesky nuisances that I had learned to live with. So maybe I should cut him slack, I thought.
But gutting a piano and replacing the keys? That would be a be pretty labor intensive project. In fact, it had the potential to become an ordeal.
I pictured my piano dismantled for weeks, parts here and there, out of commission and unusable for lessons. I eventually managed to calm my worries by reminding myself that I had the week off from teaching, so there should be ample time to finish before my students returned. And besides, a certified piano technician lives in our neighborhood. I could always call him in an emergency.
However, when I walked into the barn at the break of dawn on Saturday morning and found my piano partially disassembled, my initial worries resurfaced. My heart seriously began to palpitate. It was reminiscent of the first time I saw one of our car engines taken apart, pieces strewn about on the lawn in some sort of order that was only known to Dave.
I suggested taking pictures in case he couldn't remember how to put it back together again, just as he had done during those past car repairs. He assured me that it was a "piece of cake."
Mere moments later when he kind of chuckled and said,"Hmmm, this is going to be more involved than I thought", my anxiety rose another notch. I constantly had to remind myself to breathe. I reminded Dave that this is something people go to COLLEGE for, and that it wasn't too late to call in the professional. He assured me it would be fine.
I knew it was pointless to fight it. After all, he had demonstrated competency in so many other projects over the years and his track record was good if not great. More importantly, I could tell this would be a major victory for him if he could pull it off.
After removing a few screws, he slowly slid the entire keyboard out of the piano.
And there it was. Bare naked, defenseless and completely gutted. Piano keys laying helplessly on the floor.
It was as if he had just performed open heart surgery on my poor piano.
The first task at hand was to vacuum out the inside of the piano.
There was a collection of dust bunnies. A dead moth. The missing laminated puzzle piece that had fallen into a crack months earlier during a piano lesson. And, oh gosh, please tell that is not mouse poop. I wondered aloud if the piano had ever been this thoroughly cleaned before we became its owners.
Once done, I perked up a bit at the thought of a newly cleaned piano.
And then the real work started. One by one, Dave meticulously removed the old ivory key tops. I purposely kept myself busy throughout the day, peeking in occasionally to check on his progress. There were clamps. Screws. Glue. A hair dryer. A rag. A file. And a very loud ShopVac.
Reassured by his trusty internet instructions and diagrams, I started to relax. He actually seemed to know what he was doing. He was not frustrated in the least. I might even go as far as saying he was enjoying this little challenge!
And then he said,"I think I'll go ahead and spray paint the black keys while I'm at it."
Deep inhale... slow exhale.
"Spray paint!?!" I said. Stinky, gummy spray paint on my keys!? I think I may have shook my head, figuratively throwing my hands up to surrender at this point.
Twelve hours later, he finally called it a day.
This morning as the kids and I got ready in the house, Dave came in and told me that he had a surprise for me. Eva's excited response was,"Daddy, you smell like BACON!"
As I entered the barn, the table was set and plates of blueberry pancakes and bacon were waiting for us. The kitchen area was spotless. In the next room, all of the toys were picked up and things were neat and orderly. I thought I was dreaming!
Much like the day before, my heart began to palpitate... but in a completely different way. A clean home truly makes me swoon.
As I gushed over this wonderful surprise, Dave interrupted by saying,"Did you see the piano?"
I looked over my shoulder, almost in slow motion, and found a completely intact, perfectly put back together piano!
And the keys... ohhh, the keys! They were smooth, polished and shiny. Swirly pearly whites and sharp glossy blacks, all lined up and waiting to be played.
After a quick chromatic scale up the keyboard, I was both relieved and astounded that the piano looked and sounded better than ever!
He explained that he got up at 1:30 am and finished the project while the rest of us slept. The cherry on top was that he fixed the
una corda pedal, aka soft pedal, which had never quite worked right. That was a nice little bonus.
I am in complete and utter shock over Dave's newest accomplishment. He truly amazes me with all of his secret talents. He can fix cars. He can cook. He can do construction, even the extras like plumbing and electrical work. He's a loving father. He's a fine musician. And he's a competitive Scrabble player.
Now in addition to everything else, he can add "Piano Technician" to his list of credentials.
I am in love.
