What makes you think of someone? A million differnet things can. My grandfather played piano. The man was amazing. He couldn’t read sheet music. He knew any song you could name or request by heart. Any song. He had a nickname for all of us kids, mine being ‘Sparky’. He’d say, “Here is Sparky’s song!” and he’d play “New York, New York!”
We would go see my grandpa at the piano bars he played in before they would open. Sometimes Kids could come if he played in a restraunt VS an actual bar. But before the bar would open we’d go in. I was young; maybe 8. I remeber how dark his piano bar was. I remember wondering why he always had a fish bowl on his piano. I distintly remember the smell of cigars and the sounds of glasses clinking as they set up for the night. I remembered rubbing the red velvet on the seats back and forth making the fabric shift from smooth to rough. My grandfather always wore a suit. Classy. I wish now, (as a 40+ year old adult) that I could have been at an age to see him play while having a glass of wine. I didn’t respect as a kid what he did. Young and dumb lol. When I reached an age that I did love what he did, he swore every piano was ‘out of tune’ when in all reality he was losing his hearing. He’d never admit that though. When I hear a piano now, he comes to mind. My dad often says the same thing. My dad said growning up he’d hear and fall asleep to my grandpa playing piano. My grandpa always played my parents piano at the holdiay gatherings before and after dinner. I’m so glad he made a cassette tape of him playing that my cousin made into a CD. It’s such a cool thing he did. Now if I could just find a good piano bar here in Denver.
Sleepless at 5280 