My grandma was looking for someone in the family to take her piano and promise to keep it in the family. I've been looking for a piano for around eight years. It was a good match.
My grandma is 92 years old and her mother got this piano, used, right before my grandma was born.
The problem, once the 'who' had been solved, became 'how'. My grandma and grandpa had moved this piano from Wyoming to their house in Idaho while the house was being built. The room it was in had literally been built around the piano and they'd never planned to move the piano.
Matt took the door frame off of the piano room and it barely squeaked through that door, but then this happened.
Turns out that he had to take the door frame off of the closet across the hall. That gave us enough room to get it out of the room with 1/8 of an inch of clearance. Once it was in the hall, it was nearly smooth sailing.
To get it out to the truch, the garage door had to be held open by someone standing in the bathroom - which was me.
"Don't worry," my dad said. "You have running water and a toilet." Har de har har.
Some of my dad's neighbors came over to lift the very solidly made piano.
My dad supervised.
That was a heavy piano.
So now it's home, along with some sheet music that my grandmother insisted came with the piano and is nearly as old as it.
I'm so happy to finally have a piano in my home.
I'll never play Flight of the Bumblebee as well as my mom, but I hope my kids will associate music with their childhood nonetheless.