If John the Piano Tuner tells you he will be at your house between 8 and 9, you’d better be up and dressed by 8 a.m., as he will be at your door not a minute later.
John has been doing this for over 30 years and he is the very picture of the old saying “Do what you love and you will never work a day in your life.” He is cheerful and chirpy at that ungodly hour. He’s already been up since 6.
He is a thin man, graying short hair, genial thin face, glasses. He arrives with his canvas bag of tools which he wields like Felix the Cat once used his bag of tricks. He pulls out a confusing array of metal tools and ribbons and hammers and sharp things and, I think, just a little bit of fairy dust at the bottom to summon Tinkerbell if needed.
To John every piano has its own distinct personality. His mission in life–how nice to have one!–is to make every piano he meets sing and soar. He is very good at what he does.
My piano, given to me for free by an older couple in Helendale (the wife did not play piano; it was used by her daughter who tragically passed away), has been moved to Barstow and endures our harsh cold and heat out here in a little alcove of the Little Blue House. Indeed, when I saw the alcove in the living room, the first thing I thought of was getting a piano to fill the space.
I am not much of a piano player. I know chords and can play a few songs–at church on Saturday nights, I play the Responsorial Psalm and the Alleluia on it, as well as an occasional hymn if the song isn’t too fast–but it is my hope that now that I’ve retired I can improve my playing to the point that I can play some simple pieces. Still working on that.
John and my piano have a loving relationship. He gently removes her front cover, her base board, her top, and fiddles with the hammers and strings inside. He describes to me her quirks–that some of her strings seemed to be confused, that he initially needed to shave some of the hammers because they were hitting the neighboring strings, that the bass keys can be more resident–as he works for four hours to bring the piano up to snuff.
In fact, according to John, this is not a once a year process. He returns every few months to bring the piano further along, like a good teacher encouraging a promising student.
And when he finally pulls the ribbons and tools from the piano, when he finally dresses her back up and puts her in one piece, he plays a brief portion of the Moonlight Sonata on her keys. I can hear the piano sigh with pleasure.
He will be back in May to bring her further along. In the meantime I play chords and figure melodies for church on her, and I can sense her impatience.
I’ll get better, dear, I promise. And John will be back soon.
Mark Bruce, Writer 