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The Red Piano
by
Erin
Goseer Mitchell
During my childhood I spent summer vacations in Selma, Alabama with my maternal grandparents, Frank and Mabel Blevins and other relatives. My great grandmother, “Grandma Tucker,” Amelia Ann Tucker, was affectionately known as “Miz ‘Melia Ann, the midwife.” She frequently told children around town that they were one of her babies. I remember her telling me, as she held out her arthritic hands, “ These hands have snatched many a baby.”
My grandparents lived on Lapsley Street and Grandma Tucker lived around the corner on Small Avenue, recently renamed Anderson Avenue. I have fond memories of visiting her on summer afternoons. She was the proud owner of her four room frame house with a porch across the entire front. The front porch had a large rocking chair on one end and a swing that hung from the ceiling on the on the end. Colorful pots of flowers lined the edge of the porch. Summer afternoons as she sat in her rocking chair those same arthritic hands worked on crocheting an ecru, full-sized bedspread. I remember how proud she was when she finished the spread and put it on the bed in the “front room.” Looking back, with a better understanding of the pain of arthritic hands, I wonder how she managed the crocheting.
Another vivid memory of Grandma Tucker was during an afternoon visit when she proudly showed me her freshly painted, bright red wooden floor. I was disappointed because I liked the natural wood floor. On my next visit Grandma Tucker had painted her upright, shiny mahogany piano the same bright red color as the living room floor. I was almost in tears when she said, “Isn’t my piano pretty? Just look how it flows down and matches the floor.” She had also painted the three-legged piano stool with the seat that turned around to make the height adjustable. I felt sad because she had ruined her beautiful piano, but I knew better than to express my feelings. Before the paint job, I had played her piano and loved turning around on the stool. Afterwards, I never played her piano again.
On a recent visit to Beaufort, South Carolina my hostess, Delo Washington, took me on a tour of the area. One of the highlights of the tour was a stop in St. Helena Island at an art gallery, “The Red Piano Too,” that sells folk and fine art. Oddly, the name of the store did not bring up any memories for me. I wandered around the shop, exploring all of the rooms, admiring art treasures as well as the many bowls and vases of fresh hydrangeas. I found a pair of handmade glass turquoise earrings that were a perfect match for a dress I had recently bought. As I walked toward the desk to pay for the earrings, I gasped when I turned and saw an upright, bright red piano. I felt as though I had just seen a ghost from my past. After I paid for the earrings I walked closer to the piano and just stared. I didn’t touch it or try to open it. I don’t know if it was even locked. I have no idea how long I stood there, almost in a trance. I suppose it was until the others in my group had finished their shopping. When I returned to the van I didn’t tell anyone what I had just experienced. Thoughts began to swirl in my head. Could this possibly be Grandma Tucker’s red piano from my childhood? If so, how did it get from Selma, Alabama to South Carolina? Grandma Tucker died in 1953 during my sophomore year in college. I never knew what happened to the contents of her home. Once I asked Mama if she knew what happened to the beautiful hand-crocheted bedspread. She didn’t know. I never asked about the piano.
Later that evening, back at the guest house that my hostess, Delo, calls “The Cottage,” the shocked feeling I had seeing the red piano haunted me. Could this possibly be the same piano or was someone else also inspired to paint an upright piano this bright red color? If so, I suppose Grandma Tucker was an artist with a very creative mind. These thoughts continued to bother me. When I returned home, I went to the web site of the “Red Piano Too” to get more information. I was still not satisfied – so I looked on my receipt for the phone number. Soon after we left the art gallery, I had met the owner, Mary Mack, at the Gullah Grub restaurant, just across the street. She was warm and friendly so I decided to call and ask about her red piano. She solved the mystery for me. The piano did not come from Selma, Alabama. She had painted it bright red. The idea had come from another art gallery that had a bright red grand piano - thus the name the “Red Piano Too.” I felt a bit disappointed when I learned the truth. Even if I had never solved the mystery, I still thoroughly enjoyed my flight of imagination, re-living my childhood experiences.
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