A Piano Story

A Piano's Story

My piano has a long and loving history with my family.  It began at the Pick home in the early 1950's when it was handpicked by one of Grandpa Doc’s sisters, Sr. Aiden. And, yes, she really was a “sister”.  Four of Grandpa's siblings chose serving as a nun as their lifelong vocation.  The story, as I have been told, is that the musically gifted Sister Aiden went with Grandpa to the piano store and carefully played each piano until she choose the perfect one for her brother's home.  This same piano now sits in my living room.  My mom and her siblings were taught on this piano at their childhood home in Remsen, Iowa.  It then traveled to the farm as my grandpa retired from his life as a vet to begin his life as a farmer.  The piano ultimately followed my grandparents when they retired back in town.



The Pick "Sisters"
(L to R) Sr. M. Bertilda, Sr. M. Marius, Sr. M. Lea, Sr. M. Aiden 



I remember the piano well on the farm as a little girl. It had its place in the center of the family room. And although at times it was cluttered with stacks of paper and boxes; on holidays and special occasions, it was played with vigor!  Joan and Mom perfected their duets together in front of an engaged audience. The grandchildren played their songs of choice and sometimes just pounded on the keys (with a quick reprimand from Grandpa Doc). The piano was definitely a focal point at the farmhouse. Many family photos, including the one of my family below, were taken on the piano bench.

Mom & Dad with me and my brothers (Matt in the center and Mark to the right).  We were sitting on the piano bench with the piano in the background celebrating Christmas on the farm.  I would guess it to be 1971 and yes, my mom made my dress :)

After Grandma and Grandpa passed away, an estate auction followed.  The nine Pick children were allowed to go through the household items "pre-auction" and choose special items they wanted to keep in the family.  Somehow the piano was forgotten.  This oversight was not caught until well into the advertised auction time frame.  It was a beautiful fall day in Iowa and I had made the trip from Omaha with my three boys; Zach, Ben and Grant (then 7, 4 and 6 months). Things were chaotic with all that a public auction entailed and the many collectible and household items that had accumulated over my grandparent's lifetime. A crowd had gathered and was scoping out the items and collecting their bid numbers. The Pick siblings quickly realized that the prized piano was on the auction list. How did this happen? We all clearly wanted it to stay in the family, but per auction rules could not reclaim it at this point. Zach picked up on the panic among us and the ensuing conversations.  “Please, Mom,” he begged me; “can we buy the piano? I want to learn to play SO bad! Please, can we buy it? You NEVER need to buy me a birthday present ever again if you buy it for us! PLEASE!!!!” That was it. I was determined. That piano was going to be ours. It belonged in the Pick family and it was going to stay in the Pick family.

A new twist quickly developed as we realized that collectors were at the auction, eyeballing this treasure of a piano as well. Word spread fast that the family wanted me to get the piano. All of the townspeople were rallying; anticipating a bidding war as the piano got closer to the auction block with out-of-town collectors standing at bay. Everyone in the family, especially the Pick sisters and Zach, was nervous. When bidding began, as anticipated, the collectors were bidding against me on the piano.  None of the townspeople would bid.  They all knew it was to stay in the family.  You could have cut the tension in the air as the bids continued to go higher with my raising my bid number each time a collector raised his or hers. Zach was by my side, wanting me to “win” so badly. We went back and forth as the auctioneer barked the higher bids. Finally, without hesitation, I gave what became the final bid. The auctioneer asked the collectors for a counter…silence. He asked again…silence. “Going, going, GONE…Sold to Sandy Lane!!” The crowd roared. My mom and aunts cried as Zach jumped in the air. The overall feeling was of pure joy.  We were overcome with emotion.  It was although we won one for Grandma and Grandpa.  After the spectators and auctioneer moved on to the next auction item, the Pick sisters lingered by the piano in silence. My Aunt Joan quietly sat down on the piano bench. Without a word spoken, Mom sat down next to her and together they played a song. Without a word or a dry eye, the rest of us listened. This moment in time was a reminder to us all that life is built off of moments like these.

Mom, Joan, Ben and Zach enjoy a quiet moment after the winning bid

My cousin, Adam, hauled the piano to my house in his truck as I certainly didn't come to the auction prepared to bring a piano home.  And although I did not hold Zach to his commitment of giving up future birthday gifts, he did begin piano lessons that fall. He played for seven years until he reached high school.  Ben and Grant started at age 7 and are both still taking lessons.  For me the frosting on the cake was when I decided to relive my many years of childhood piano lessons and began taking them with the boys last fall.  As I listen to the sweet sounds of the piano fill my house, I am forever reminded of the loving fingers of my aunts that have danced on these same ivory keys in years past and of the wonderful memory I hold in my heart of that fall afternoon in Remsen.