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Anne Marie Cohen's Autobiography (submitted 5/17/06)
All my helpers have gone. My parents' house, our family's home for more than fifty years, was almost empty. It had been a long, tedious process claiming, selling, and donating the possessions my parents had cherished. Now only one item remained--a player piano. No one had claimed this lovable, music-filled, old monster. I first tried to sell it, then reconciled myself to giving it away. Even that had not been easy. I finally persuaded the minister of a small church nearby to take it, but I had to pay for a truck and two men to haul it there! Now they were here, and it was time to say good-bye.
I descended to our "rec room," where it stood--a not-so-gorgeous green giant, looking even uglier with no accessories to soften it in the gloomy basement. Years ago it had been the grandest Mother's Day surprise my brother and I had ever concocted. In our family, my mother was the only one who could not play a musical instrument. She had told me stories of her dismal failngs as a piano student. When I spied the classified ad in the newspaper,I knew this was just what my mother needed. I coerced my brother and Dad into a partnership. What a reasonable price for A LOT of piano! We never knew what expense our Dad incurred to move it. I vividly remember the look of surprise (and shock) on my mother's face that Mother's Day. No longer would my mother be a spectator at our musical holiday and birthday gatherings!
As the men secured it in the truck, I recalled my mother's favorite song, "Send in the Clowns." How I needed a few now to add some cheer to a very somber moment.