Know What I Find Interesting? Piano Innards

Wednesday afternoon I made a new friend, Milo. Milo works for the local music company that tunes pianos as well as restores them and he came out to my house. Isn't Milo the most perfect name for a guy in the music business?

And hons, Milo is an absolute fountain of piano knowledge. We chatted for at least twenty minutes, from tuning forks to brands of pianos to the percentage of Americans in the 1920s who played a musical instrument.

Forty-eight percent, by the way. Almost half of all Americans during the 20s played a musical instrument. I bet about that many women wore those dresses with row upon row of that nifty fringe on them, too. Milo didn't care to make a wager on the fringe dresses thing, but I'm getting off topic here.

Milo was at my house to tune the piano and (here is where the plot thickens) he tuned this very piano back in 1989. Milo took one look at the brand name of the piano, whipped up the top lid and hollered 'This piano was serviced in 1989 by my company … oh look at that. I tuned this very piano in 1989. There's the date and my code.'

I tossed out my trademark intellectual response  of 'Wow! That's pretty cool.' and then followed up with the equally as brainy comment 'I almost didn't recognize you without your mullet and skinny tie'.

Wisely ignoring my statement, Milo told me that my piano was actually made in my hometown. It was made by hand in the same shop of the company which employs Milo today. In a world where fewer and fewer items are locally made, I think that's a pretty peachy concept.

More importantly, it's good to know that if one of those skinny legs in the front of the piano ever snaps off, I can get a replacement leg in a brief, twenty-five minute drive downtown. Then I can say hey to Milo, too.

'Cause I know he misses me pestering him with all sorts of questions about piano innards.

I find piano innards fascinating.

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