"When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things..."
I was very fortunate to have owned 3 pianos in my (relatively) short time on this earth. The first one was a brand - new Nocturne Russian piano bought when I was 6, which later sadly was attacked severely by moths when my house was under renovation. It was my companion throughout my music education. Together (when my amateurish skills allowed), we entertained Grandpa with Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata"; delighted Grandma with "For Elise", brought Mom back to her days in Europe with Schubert's "Serenade" and made Dad proud with Mozart's "Turkish March". The second was a Yamaha piano which was sold recently because I was relocated. Bought during the time I was away from home, it was hardly played. Its next owner was overjoyed when we sold it to her, even insisted to pay more than what we asked for.
The next week we saw this Rudolf Steiner in a shop on Warringal Road. We had meant to buy a new piano but while browsing the shop, we stumbled on this beauty and were charmed. The whole family immediately fell in love with it. Recently been restored carefully, it doesn't look and certainly doesn't sound 105 years old. In fact, it sounds so much more beautiful than some new ones of same price range. Only a $15000 Kawai could compete with its sound but not its look. It has the best wood patterns I have ever seen. They were appropriately framed in appreciation of their natural beauties. The case is virtually made up of wooden arts created by nature.
Excited by the instrument's age, I looked up its name on the Internet and disappointedly found nothing. The salesman, while was apparently desperate for a sale, couldn't provide us with any attractive story related to the piano's long history, except that it was made in Germany, so must be of good quality and that it is antique so the wood quality is now rarely found. It was a friend of mine from Europe who made the significant discovery when she told her music teacher about my piano. The teacher got very excited when she heard about a 105 yearsa old Rudolf Steiner in Oz. According to her, RS pianos were prestigious instruments made to orders mostly for professional pianists and are not commercially available. A new RS today will set its owner back 20000EUR. This explained the gold printings "Carnegie and Sons" at the corner of the case. It must have been ordered by a rich Carnegie from Oz to decorate his new house here in this new land early last century.
A hopeless romantic and a fan of "The Red Violin" movie, I was tempted to think my piano has had a long and wild history. I entertained myself imagining the long months it endured inside a ship weathering many storms to get here, then being uncovered and admired, a centerpiece in a gorgeous living room. It could have entertained historically important persons, helped firing up great loves, provided soundtracks to sweet romances, inspired big dreams, witnessed important decisions, heartbreaks and disillusion. It must have suffered long years of neglect under a basement, was on display at a second hand shop together with beds and tables, was restored meticulously and then waited patiently at the shop to be "found". On the other hand, the rational part of me knows that the piano is no "Red Violin" and its past life could have been as simple as or even less loved than any of my previous ones. Perhaps the closest my story ever comes to "The Red Violin" is that I "found" my piano the same way Samuel Jackson's character "found" the red violin: through the instrument's voice. But what does that matter? The important thing is I found it. Or did it find me?
Ignorant of its origin and history, I connected with it purely through its sound. Its first song broke out like a thousands of ringing bells, reminded me of a clear, sunny, colourful spring and filled my soul with joy. No other piano has made me feel like that. Somehow this old piano's sound has found it's way into my heart, synchronized with the chord of my being and asked me to give it a home under my roof. In the end, I didn't choose it, it didn't choose me. I guess Destiny, which had brought us here across the oceans in different centuries, was the one that chose us to be together.
