It was a lovely day.
The birds were singing.
They were singing, “Ya got trouble, folks! Right here in River City. Trouble with a capital “T” and that rhymes with “P” and that stands for piano!”
That’s right, there was a storm looming on the horizon.
We’d bought a house that came equipped with a piano. The piano had been placed in the basement, and the rest of the house was built over it.
Why a piano? Why didn’t they build the house over a clarinet? People who have to carry a dog out of a basement prefer Chihuahuas over Saint Bernards 7 to 1.
It saddened me to see the piano standing morosely in our basement, all forgotten and forlorn.
I should have hired a professional piano mover, but I didn’t. I considered it before I had a brain cramp. Jellyfish have survived millions of years despite not having brains. That gave me hope I could move that piano. But I needed help. I remembered that moving a piano is what nephews are for. The three of us could do it. Who knows more about moving a piano than three guys who have never moved a single piano?
One of the two nephews wanted the piano. I wanted him to have the piano. Sometimes, things work out.
As we began a mission impossible, Frank Sinatra sang on the radio. “Just what makes that little old ant think he’ll move that rubber tree plant? Anyone knows an ant can’t move a rubber tree plant. But he’s got high hopes. He’s got high hopes. He’s got high apple pie in the sky hopes.”
Frank Sinatra became our life coach. Thanks to him, we had high hopes.
I got a TripTik from AAA. I told someone at the AAA office that I planned on going upstairs and outside, and in return, I got a printed spiral top pad with my upcoming trip broken down into multiple legs, with the routes highlighted, gas stops and hotels estimated, and included a list of shopping locales and sites of interest.
I clutched the TripTik as the three of us boarded the struggle bus. Three guys pushing and pulling a stubborn piano up a stairway that never dreamed it would need to deal with such a calamity. We grunted because the piano apparently had been made from lead.
There’s no crying in baseball. There is crying in piano moving.
I tried to twitch my nose. In the TV show “Bewitched,” Samantha, played by Elizabeth Montgomery, twitched her nose to activate her magic. I hoped to mimic her actions and be able to levitate the piano up and out as the three of us gazed in wonder.
We twitched, we pushed, we pulled, we cajoled, and we begged.
The piano became an unmarked door, one that we were unsure if we should pull or push.
The process took longer than Moses spent leading the Israelites on the 40-year wilderness journey after their Exodus from Egypt.
Piano lessons can be challenging, but we proved nearly adequate. The piano was moved. It helped that we didn’t pause continually to look at cellphone screens.
We used the piano crossing and deposited the piano into the truck’s bed. I was pleased I didn’t need to call in the boys from the crime lab.
I placed a paw on the piano and reprised a scene from the movie “Casablanca,” with me playing all the roles.
Ilsa Lund, played by Ingrid Bergman in the film: “Play it once, Sam. For old times’ sake.”
Sam (the piano player portrayed by Dooley Wilson): “I don’t know what you mean, Miss Ilsa.”
Ilsa: “Play it, Sam. Play ‘As Time Goes By.’”
Not only didn’t the piano play “As Time Goes By,” but it didn’t tinkle a single ivory.
Did anyone ever play that piano again? No one ever fiddled with the keys. Who wanted to play a whimpering piano covered in tear stains? It ended up in a scrap heap.
It’s impossible to take the harm out of everything.
The world-famous advertising catchphrase of a car rental company that everyone came to know was: “Let Hertz put you in the driver’s seat.”
I let hurts remind me of the day I was a piano mover.
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