Duncan Diary Installment 2 – Piano Lessons

It’s a cold day and raining. I’d seen him before at the bus stop, so I stopped. An old guy in a hat and muffler. Ten o’clock on Saturday, his hands in a muff, one of those old fashioned fur things that you see in garage sales with the other junk out of granny’s attic. About eighty; face with a lot of hard days on a fish boat carved into it. I’d never noticed the muff before.

Its seven minutes into town. There’s always somebody hitching, just enough time for a comfortable exchange – where you going, the weather, did you get your garlic planted, nice meeting you, thanks for the ride and see you again.” Usually country conversations are easy but this was a craggy faced old guy in a muff.

“Going to the market?” Most people are on Saturdays, buy some Brussel sprouts, or an apple pie from Michelle. He said he was going to his piano lesson but no hurry, not until eleven. So we stopped at Black Coffee which is gossip central for the Cowichan Valley – there’s good coffee, pretty girls and something about it that makes people talk. He used to fish salmon, “…just a gill-netter. Come home at night. Sleep in your own bed.”

He was eighty six. “Not many people taking piano lessons at eight six?” And no, there weren’t. But he was doing it to please his wife. They’d had the piano for nearly forty years….”it just sat there and neither of us could play it, it came from her aunt’s house and nobody else wanted it. But it looked nice in the living room. She liked piano music and she always wanted me to play. So I started lessons. About four years ago. Every Saturday. Then I practice all week. Wish I’d started earlier.”

“What kind of music do you play?” “She likes the old stuff. Sing alongs. A bit romantic. Nothing fancy. She’s old fashioned. Like this muff, it came with the piano and it really works. She showed me .Keeps your hands warm. The house is a bit cold. Used six cords of wood last winter to keep the stove going all night. She likes it warm.”

We had another coffee. Black Coffee’s that sort of place. “You have kids?”

“Never did. Just the two of us. Not even a dog. Sixty years next year. It’s a long time to be married. I built the house and we never moved. Get used to a place, and the people…we’re not big for change.”

“But the piano must make a big difference. If you play a lot.”

“I do. Every evening. I think she likes it.”

“You’re not sure?”

“Well, she died six years ago. I just want to keep her happy.”

He’s coming to supper next week. I wonder…do I cook for two? Or three?

James Barber