The piano I played in the Kennedy Center lounge took my breath away. A six-foot Steinway grand, it had the most beautiful sound I had ever encountered in a piano. I played it each time we went to the center that season.
When we returned the next season, I couldn’t wait to play the piano again, but it was gone. Another Steinway grand was in its place, one that didn’t approach the beauty of the one I had played the season before. Crestfallen, I nevertheless played the replacement piano each time we visited the center.
Some years later, my daughter Susan’s husband telephoned me one day and told me that I needed to come to their house immediately. Worried, I didn’t take the time to change clothes from my tee shirt and jeans. I jumped in my car and drove there. When I arrived, Susan and her husband told me to get in their car. We set off. I asked where we were going, but they changed the subject. We drove into the District of Columbia, and I remarked that we were getting near the Kennedy Center. Sure enough, we left the car in the center’s parking garage, and my daughter and her husband led me to the stage door of the Eisenhower Theater. From there we went to the stage of the theater, now filled with grand pianos. It turned out the center was selling its used pianos to make room for new ones. Susan told me to try the pianos and pick out the one I liked best. I kept coming back to one of the dozen or so pianos because of the beauty of its sound. Suddenly, I realized, this was the piano I had played in the lounge years before.
To my amazement, my daughter proceeded to buy that piano for me and arranged to have it delivered to my home.
More next time.