Our piano tuner makes music with his very presence. I’m not sure how he does this, but an
inaudible melody accompanies him whenever he enters our house.
We’ve known him for over a decade. He visited again today to re-harmonize ivories with
subtle incongruities that would lead to discord if not corrected. We chatted as usual, and I caught the
swell of his optimism as usual. Even
as we spoke I wondered about his everyday lifestyle - if he constantly tunes
his own thoughts as a matter of course, correcting sour ones that threaten to
sabotage his standard, hopeful song,
“No what-ifs, no if-onlys, no regrets,” he said today in
regard to his father’s passing. His
relationship with his dad had been fraught with limitations, but he’d accepted them and worked
within existing parameters. He spoke tenderly and respectfully of a hardened
man who’d divorced three wives and driven himself to his own death with
alcohol. This was not a song of
sorrow, but rather a compassionate score - an inspiring love song of
forgiveness and mercy that refused to be tainted by disappointment.
Metaphorically, this man reminds me of an inspiring
musical sonata with many interpretative movements. But in another sense
entirely, he resembles an unassuming oyster. When sharp grains of sand invade,
he waits for pearls instead of despairing over the grit.
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