And so it begins...

Yesterday afternoon an e-mail from the United States postal service popped up announcing the first package from Randy Potters School of Piano Technology had arrived. I took a quick ten-minute break from work to run over to the post office.

A very large priority mail was waiting. But back to work I had to go. So the opening had to be delayed until after dinner and a shower.

There's a lot of material to be covered. So much that it took a good part of last evening and most of the afternoon and evening after work today to get it organized. I bought a huge binder for the "extra" material thrown in. And since I tend to misplace things unless I make a place, I also purchased a tool case for the initial tuning tools included with the course materials plus the ones the text suggests you acquire from the local hadware store.

And -- of course -- it's a bit humbling. There's so much detailed material to learn it's pretty obvious that the road to becoming a RPT (registered piano technician) is going to have some bumps along the way. On the other hand, it was all I could do to force myself to go to bed last night. I just kept reading, sorting and organizing -- then reading some more. The more I read the more I realized I've found something that I'm going to enjoy doing. I love the fact, as well, that it's a skill that's transportable. Once mastered, it's something you can make a living at regardless of where you live.

Despite staying up much too late last night reading and not getting my usual sleep quota, I woke refreshed this morning, did my new yoga routine (despite the fact that Ranger continues to believe the yoga mat is something to burrow under) and my usual meditation and reading from the Daily Word.

It's often the case when I'm reading the Daily Word that it seems like someone has written it for my unique situation. I suppose what that actually speaks to is the universality of what we all experience as we make our journey on this planet. Nonetheless, today's reading was so pointed at what I'm experiencing that much of it bears repeating.

I have journeyed to a crossroads of opportunity. This is a place for me to pause and reflect upon the road I have been traveling and the choice that lies ahead.

I imagine that I have just walked through the desert and have now reached an oasis with refreshing water, a cool breeze and a hammock tied between two shade-giving trees. I have reached a welcome refuge.

I experience this kind of an oasis when I let go of personal striving--trying to do it all myself--and let God guide me. A sense of calm washes over me as I release my concerns and trust that God will show me the way.

I pause, I listen and I discern the guidance I have been seeking. Following the guidance I receive leads me to my greater good.

Receiving that package in the mail yesterday with all its potential made me realize I've been wandering in the desert for a long time. Today's sorting and organizing was rest for me, an oasis of calm. And while there's a long road ahead to get to the next career, it no longer seems so daunting or hopeless.

Zelda Gets A Roommate

The past week has been anticipatory in many respects. The pieces for becoming a Registered Piano Technician are beginning to fall into place. Yet until the lessons from the Randy Potter School start showing up there will be no way to track progress to the next career. So for now there's reading, dreaming and putting out good intentions.

Nonetheless, the week had several red letter moments.

Arthur Reblitz' book Piano Servicing, Tuning, and Rebuilding arrived. So I've started doing what reading I can in the absence of Zelda (the lease for the cottage where she resides doesn't begin until November 1st). Some of the theory part is familiar territory, but bears repeating. The mechanical information is all new -- and will, undoubtedly, only begin to make sense at the point I have tools and some pianos to work with.

Even before I move in with Zelda I'm pretty sure I can remedy the needy piano situation. The local community college has three practice rooms with Baldwin consoles that currently are painful to play. I'm pretty sure I can cut a deal with the faculty there to tune them gratis. The same is true of my church, which has a nice 7' grand suffering from constant changes of humidity and heat -- no air conditioning in the sanctuary during the week.

Very importantly, on Wednesday September 16 I made my leap of faith. I sent the major downpayment to the Randy Potter School of Piano Technology. Hopefully, the first course installments and the basic tools will show up within the next two weeks.

On that same day two other important things happened that will, I believe, help ground me over the next few months.

My friend Stephen was visiting that day from Palm Springs. He's already an accomplished yoga master in the Bikram practice. Recently, he decided to make his own leap of faith and become certified in the Shakti (hopefully, that's correct) school -- a gentler type of yoga practice. So, like me he's taking time out to re-school himself here in Florida where there's a well-regarded school. In addition to having one of the best days off I've had in months while he was visiting, he also taught me some basic postures to help start my day. I'm spending twenty minutes each morning with the postures. In just the four days since he returned to Miami, I can already tell a huge difference. I'm more limber and, well, I'm starting out each day with what I can only term a calm state of mind.

The second non-piano, but grounding, event was Ranger came into my life on Wednesday. He'll be Zelda's roommate when we finally get to move into the cottage in November.

Ranger is his own little miracle. He's a Maine coon cat who was found by the roadside in February, starving, covered in scabs and hardly a hair left on his body. Rather than put him down some incredible person at the shelter in Marathon decided he deserved a second chance. They brought him back from the brink over a seven month period and put him up for adoption. Somehow word got out that I had once had a Maine coon cat and several people conspired that this kitty should become my charge. The adoption was made formal on Wednesday. He spent the first two hours hiding under and inbetween the mattress of the day bed. But after those few hours of "what now" he realized he's got a cool place to live and a very loving companion / food source. It's all I can do to keep from tripping on him. He's almost more like a dog in that he follows me everywhere in the house, sits on my lap the moment I'm seated and sleeps on my feet at night. I think we're going to be very good for each other.

It's all happening very quickly -- cottage, Zelda, the yoga practice, making the first steps to the new career with reading and the downpayment -- and, of course, Zelda's new roommate Ranger.

Sight Unseen

Zelda will celebrate her 100th birthday next year. I've promised her she will sing again on her big day. Her high notes will tickle the ears and her lows will roar. Her middle register will be sonorous, mellow yet bold.

You see Zelda is a 5'2" Knabe baby grand, serial number 68717, born 1910 in Baltimore, Maryland. Her finish is so distressed from time it's difficult at present to discern whether she's mahogany or walnut; but her bones are good. When you climb underneath it's easy to see a sound board in near perfect condition, slightly bowed upward as it should and verified by a voice almost human in quality. Not surprisingly, she is a bit out of tune. Her ivory keys have mellowed over the years to a light cream. The action is uneven. And, alas, her lyre has dropped to the floor. Currently, the sustain, sostenuto and piano pedals are only a promise, not a reality. Ah, but her harp is still golden. Despite her age there's hardly a bit of dust inside. I think someone may have loved her once.

Zelda came into my life on September 2nd quite unexpectedly -- and sight unseen.

I've been looking for an affordable place here in Key West for several months, not an easy task. And thought I'd found it early in August -- a sweet little three-room cottage -- only to discover it had been rented the day before I called my friend Connie, who is the owner. Several weeks went by as I continued my search.Then one Sunday morning the person who had rented it asked me if I knew yet where I would be living. As it turned out, he had decided to back out of the deal. He really didn't have confidence Connie could clear out the place in time for his move date -- besides half the front room was taken up (as he put it) by this ghastly old piano she couldn't even give away.

My ears perked up! I called the next day and arranged to meet Connie at the cottage on Wednesday, September 2nd. Zelda did indeed loom large in the cozy room as we talked about the possibility and timing for a lease agreement. But priority number one was to secure the cottage before someone else walked in and swooped it away from me. And, honestly, though I hadn't heard her voice it was if I could hear Zelda croon from the corner where she was covered in boxes "buy me, buy me, too."

I did. Once the handshake was made for leasing the cottage, I offered to buy Zelda on the spot so she could stay in her home. I brought Connie a check for Zelda before I had ever opened her lid or climbed under her soundboard.

On the surface of things buying Zelda sight unseen is a horrible business decision -- I can hardly afford her. But her silent voice kept singing in my mind. Only after the check changed hands did I take the boxes off the cover and touch her keys. Though frail, she still has a voice -- one I'm certain can be strong and sure again.

But no one in the Keys is qualified to restore Zelda. The closest registered piano technician is 150 miles away in Miami. In fact there are only 18 such people in all South Florida. So even if I could afford to pay someone to do the work, it simply isn't a logistic possibility. The only way she's going to get her voice back is if I learn how to do all the work. And since she's an old girl, the work needs to be not only gentle but perfect.

The night after I gave Connie the check for Zelda I simply couldn't sleep. The words kept drumming in my head, "I have a piano again." But restoring her is going to be a monumental effort. Then it dawned on me -- Zelda wasn't singing just to save her. She was singing to save me. Restoring her voice will give me all the skills I need to re-create myself over the next few months. It will, I believe, give me the next career I've been searching for.

It was 09/09/09. Not being able to sleep forced me out of bed. I started looking through domain registries for a name...the first I thought of -- keystuning.com -- was available. I bought it without even knowing what I would do with it.

Then obsession. How can I learn how to make Zelda sing? The only answer; I have to become a registered piano tuner and technician myself. So I've been researching different schools, reading about the Piano Technicans Guild over the past few days. And I've made a decision --over the next year, not only am I going to give Zelda back her voice; I'm going to reclaim my life.

So I've writtten another check. Again, one I can barely afford, but I've a feeling it's going to be one of the best investments I've made for years. It's a check to the Randy Potter School of Piano Technology -- sounds hokey -- but from everything I've read, short of being in residence for learning the trade, it's the best thing of its kind out there. I'm waiting a few days to mail it just to make sure I really haven't gone mad. But there's something that tells me learning to save Zelda is really all about saving myself -- sight unseen.

By the way, we start co-habitation on November 3rd.