One of my sister ‘Stackers,
, wrote a thought provoking piece about setting fire to a piano in her driveway entitled, appropriately enough:Her experience reminded me of several of my own, which I shared with her in her comments section.
Switter: “This is the third piano death I know about. The first was an ancient upright grand some renter left in our house that was untunable and a piano guy said it would take $$$ to repair, so I dismantled it with a chainsaw into movable chunks, made firewood from the cabinet, and hauled the cast iron to a recycler. I felt guilty about the whole affair, dismembering an instrument once capable of calling forth Rachmaninoff and Chopin, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do.
“The next piano death I witnessed was during an afternoon walk through a leafy neighborhood in Tbilisi, Georgia, in the old section of the city, not the ghastly part where the Soviet apartments where built and out of sight of the hideous Soviet era massive sculptures that mar the lovely hillsides. As I walked the broken sidewalk, I heard men grunting and cursing from the fifth or sixth floor of an old apartment building. When I moved from under a tree to see what was happening, I caught a glimpse of the end of a piano working its way out of a window. Suddenly. when it reach its center of gravity, it tilted down, ripped out the window casing, glass and all, and the entire mess fell earthward, then crashed onto a concrete patio in a magnificent cacophony of death.
“The chances of being crushed by a falling piano are small but never zero.
“Now I learn that a seemly sensible person who lives in my part of the world set fire to a piano in her driveway. I suppose even pianos must die from time to time, but what does it tell us about the people who killed them?”
Sue: “LOL Only in my dreams, but yes, my dreams are becoming a tad closer to becoming realized. Pray for me, Switter, to whatever god exists! Pray for me! Bwhahahahhaha!
“As hinted in the essay, I did kill two keyboards and am playing on a third. It was such an upgrade, though, I struggle to quash my rage so as not to break this one.Getting better.”
Switter: “I’ve been discussing with my old guy about getting a performance art grant from the NEA to built a trebuchet big enough to toss an old upright grand piano from my house to the other side of the river, about a half mile.
“In small, rural communities such as ours, there aren’t many opportunities for people to enjoy fine arts. I think my idea would really appeal to my people and our culture.”
Sue: “Sounds like a great idea, but if you do it, you'll have to invite the cast of Northern Exposure because they did this on an episode. Wish I could remember the exact details. Maggie's house burned down, but her piano survived. Chris built a trebuchet, but had nothing to hurl from it. Why the piano was chosen as the fling of honor, I forget, but I'm wondering if Fleischman or Maurice had anything to do with it? The closing scene was spectacular. Pianos have good weight and aerodynamics. Tally-ho, Switter, and, as they say at NASA, God speed.”
Switter: “Well, apparently it’s a good idea if someone else thought of it, too. I don’t have a tv, so I’ve never watched Northern Exposure, but I believe the idea has as much artistic merit as other performance art projects funded by the NEA. We have an art center in our tiny town (culturally speaking, we punch way above our weight class) with a large, lovely acrylic painting of a slice of buttered toast. I see that as a salute to a delicious but often overlooked part of a hearty breakfast and a commentary on the comforts of a rural homey lifestyle full of simple yet beautiful things. My piano (or even a small car such as a Yugo, if there are any left that haven’t rusted into oblivion or left on the curb for recycling) would embrace much that is held in high regard here in our Intermountain West culture. Bold undertakings. The art and science of ballistics. Citizen self reliant self defense. The beauty of big things soaring through our azure skies. The thrill of gravity guiding the skyward bound object back to the bosom of Mother Earth. The inherent beauty of a thing no longer useful performing a swan song as it completes its existence in a thrilling explosion of joyful cacophony.”
This, dear reader, is an example of the power of artistic collaboration. There is no limit to what the artistic soul can create for the delight of other beauty seekers in the world.
Note: a couple of language warnings.
Love love your written humor Mr Switter. Took reading several peices to catch onto it. Thanks for sharing it, among other things
I'm certain there are Yugos available somewhere. And thank you for reminding me, once again, of Monty Python's catapulted cattle...