A Piano Story
Our piano at it’s Omaha home
On the auction block was our beloved piano.
Unexpected.
An accident.
Our family piano was up for bid at my grandparents’ estate sale. Purchased in the 1950s and handpicked by Grandpa’s sister, Sister Aidan, it had a long and loving history in my family.
Sr. Aidan was a sister under both the titles of a sibling and a nun. Four of Grandpa's sisters (siblings) chose a life of sisterhood (nuns) as their lifelong vocation. A talented musician with a master’s degree in voice, Sr. Aidan taught music in many parochial schools across the Midwest.
Our piano’s journey began with this musically gifted nun carefully selecting a Cable Nelson spinet for her brother’s family. Spending a day at a piano store with Grandpa, Sr. Aidan played each piano several times, never considering the price tag, until she chose the perfect one.
A smiling Sr. Aidan was always happiest behind a piano
Mom and her brothers and sisters learned to play music on this piano while growing up in Remsen, Iowa. When the family moved to a farm outside of town, the piano moved with them.
My childhood memories on the farm almost always include the piano in the backdrop of my mind’s eye. A focal point in the living room, my aunts would perfect their duets in front of an engaged audience. Sing-alongs were frequent, and the grandchildren were allowed to play their songs of choice. Grandpa quickly reprimanded any pounding of the keys, reminding us that his deceased sister had specially selected the piano.
Later in life, when my aging grandparents moved back to town, the piano followed. Again, it took up a prominent spot in their living room. When not in use, cards and family photos were proudly displayed atop the piano cabinet.
After my grandparents passed away in 2000, just months apart, an estate sale with an auction was planned in the spring. Their nine children were allowed to go through the items pre-auction and choose which they wanted to keep. Somehow, the piano was forgotten, with the oversight not being caught until it was too late to take it off the sale docket.
The auction day, April 28, 2001, was a beautiful spring day in Iowa. I had traveled from Omaha with my three young boys, Zach, Ben, and Grant (ages 8, 5, and 1). The feeling of the day was somber, seeing the physical possessions that represented the long lives of my grandparents spread across the lawn and tables. Rather than feeling the typical warmth of our family gathering spot, I felt empty as an onlooker to their exposed belongings.
Chaos accompanied the public auction as a crowd gathered, scoping out the items for sale and collecting bid numbers. At about this time, Mom and her sister realized that their prized piano was on the auction list. Not understanding how this happened, they attempted to keep the piano in the family. But per the auction contract, the piano could not simply be reclaimed.
Auction Announcement
My grandparents’ estate sale - 4/28/2001
My oldest son, Zach, caught the ensuing panic among our whispers.
“Please, Mom,” he begged me, “can we buy the piano? You NEVER need to buy me a birthday present ever again if you buy it for us! PLEASE!!!!”
That was it. I was determined it would stay in the family. With bid card in hand and Zach at my side, I was ready to reclaim our piano.
I soon saw an obstacle to our plan. There were collectors in the crowd, eyeballing our treasure. The locals quietly rallied around me as word spread that our family wanted to keep the piano. The out-of-town collectors stood at bay, waiting for the piano’s turn in the auction order.
As the bidding began, it was just the collectors and me vying for our piano. The townspeople remained quiet, watching beside my family from the sidelines. Tension filled the air as bids increased.
Each time I raised my bid number, it was countered by a collector across the room. The auctioneer would go back and forth, barking out a higher number with each raised hand.
With a final lift of a paddle, I gave what became the final bid. The auctioneer’s request for a counterbid was answered with silence.
“Going, going, GONE! SOLD to Sandy Lane!!”
The crowd roared. My mom and aunts cried as Zach jumped, hugging me in mid-air. In a feeling of pure joy, we became overcome with emotion. We had won back our cherished piano.
After the spectators and auctioneer moved on to the next item, Mom and her sister, Joan, silently lingered by the piano. Aunt Joan quietly sat down on the bench with Mom joining her. Together, they played a song. Filling the room with a sweet duet, this was our final goodbye to Grandpa and Grandma.
As my sons quietly took in the music, I was reminded that the best pieces of life are built on moments like these.
The piano was moved to Omaha that same weekend and remained a steady fixture in my living room until I moved out of state in 2019. Along with his brothers, Zach took piano lessons. I even joined in the lessons years later as an adult learner. Aunt Joan would often come over to visit us, always spending time playing the piano and entertaining us with songs.
My middle son, Ben, continued to play into adulthood. Following my move from Omaha, he asked to be the new owner of the piano. Although it is now in storage, the day will come when it will adorn Ben’s living room for the next generation of our family.
And with every played note, we will remember the loving fingers that have joyfully danced on these same ivory keys before us.
