A BIG BUZZZZZZ!

[gordon stelter]

Yes. I sometimes play nursing homes. And may we all
drop dead before we end up in a place like that!
     Thump

--- "Alan R. Barnard" <mathstar@salemnet.com> wrote:
> Re: The Square. Aw, Joe. The customer only pretended
> to be happy. Truth is, you broke her heart: She was
> hoping to make a desk out of it. Who shot it,
> anyway? Must have been a tech.
> 
> Didn't know if it would be too "OT" (new term I
> learned here) and bore people. But since you
> described your day, here was my very memorable
> yesterday:
> 
> 8 hours in a nursing home doing major work on a
> Chickering older than most of their residents
> (1910). Piano can't be moved to any place more
> private than right where it is. So ...
> 
> Gentleman in wheelchair kept rolling past very,
> veeeery slowly, saying "Come on, come on. Can't get
> goin'. Come on, come on. Can't get goin'." Over and
> over again.
> 
> Woman kept alternating between crying and SCREAMING
> the filthiest obscenities you can imagine, telling
> everyone in sight where to go and what to do when
> they get there (things not anatomically possible,
> BTW). Over and over again.
> 
> Lady in wheelchair kept rolling past asking everyone
> for spare change. Over and over again.
> 
> Another lady in wheelchair rolled up as I was
> bringing some new bass strings up to the
> neighborhood of pitch (Mister Rogers?). She said:
> "Play Deep Purple." "The piano isn't ready to play,"
> says I, "I'm here to fix it and tune it." "Okay,"
> she says, "then play Stardust." "I can't." says I.
> "Okay," she said, "I'll sing it for you." And she
> did. Over and over again.
> 
> Man in the room right next to the piano was watching
> marathon westerns. Horses galloping, guns blazing.
> Gene Autry, Hopalong Cassidy, Gunsmoke, some baaad
> movies, and The Lone Ranger. He's pretty deaf, the
> TV turned up to Stun.
> 
> (How come Tonto can't say: "He went to town" but CAN
> say: "Him go town, back Wednesday." LOL)
> 
> Man in the gunfight room had a small, cheap guitar.
> He got it out every half hour and played for about
> 10 minutes (TV still going). Sounded terrible.
> Finally offered to tune it for him with my
> "professional tuner." Being a pianer tuna and a
> concert guitarist, I figured I could really improve
> his instrument. It was waaaaaaaaay off. Tuned it, he
> said thanks and went back to his room. Started
> playing and it sounded exactly as before. Peeked in
> at him and saw that he was just making up random
> "chords." Over and over again.
> 
> Their handyman had done a decent job refinishing the
> piano. I sold them a stencil and lent him a
> burnisher. He put it on, very nicely. I told him to
> put a coat of the urethane he'd used over the
> stencil. He did. Right there, right then. The fumes
> finally drove me out.
> 
> These are just a few of the highlights. The whole
> experience was sad, funny, and aggravating at the
> same time. Such mixed emotions are very tiring.
> 
> I get to go back this week to adjust my new dampers,
> repair the soft pedal assembly (unique design, very
> Chickering), raise the pitch about 150 cents on some
> pretty rusty strings and tune the thing (A435, thank
> you very much)
> 
> Pray for me. Over and over again.
> 
> Alan R.Barnard
> Salem, MO
> 
> P.S. To demonstrate the "ruralness" of this area:
> This nursing home is an hour from my town. Most of
> that time you are driving through oak and pine
> forests. You pass through two towns with pop. < 200
> and see very few mailboxes, let alone houses. There
> is exactly one place to buy gas and get a soda
> 'twixt here and there. It closes when it gets dark.
> My tunemobile has 214,000 miles on 'er. Keep
> praying, brothers and sisters, I sure do when I'm on
> that road at 9 PM!
> 


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