Piano Restoration Fund
Donation protected
“The girls and I have discussed this, and we want the piano to go to someone who will love and care for it.”
That’s me—I told him so, with not a second of hesitation.
This campaign is about exactly that ❤️
--
Mark was a director of a house of prayer in a northwestern corner of Chicagoland, friend of a friend of mine, and had this piano in his home long enough for he and his wife Kathy to raise their girls on a lifestyle of prayer and worship too.
When Mark first posted on Facebook that they were moving and had a baby grand piano to give to a good home, my friend Julie quickly tagged me. I found her response toward the top of a stream of others that included comments like “I know a church that's been looking, this would be an answer to prayer.” “I’m a longtime piano teacher, it’s my dream to have a baby grand.”
My own prayers and dreams fit right in, though I didn’t know if they measured up to these grander causes.
But, secretly, I knew in my heart... mine was grand too.
Growing up, almost every night Mom would make her way to the piano. Barry Manilow songbooks or old musicals were favorites, but one of my strongest memories was walking up the back staircase in my pajamas with the fading refrain of “Send in the Clowns” following me. Such a melancholy tune, my heart soaked in every note.
My sister and I took piano lessons from Mrs. Radke, my mom’s childhood piano teacher, the lady with the cats. I went on to study piano in college, practicing on well-worn practice room baby grands, giving recitals on shiny black stage grands. When I moved to Chicago I was astonished to find work at a church that had a grand piano on stage—within reach for this girl who now had keys. I would go in to work early to begin my day in prayer (at the piano) or come back later in the evening to spend an hour just improvising, sometimes in the dark for dramatic effect. It was where my heart could focus, could find its voice, could sing; it was where I felt most connected to God in prayer. It was where I learned to move with the Spirit through music.
Additionally, during my office hours, if I found myself stuck on a project, needing creative inspiration for a design project or even a fresh perspective on an excel sheet, I would go in and play a page of Mozart--it helped!
My time at the piano was also a constant companion through years of friends and family battling cancer. Some won to fight another day, some passed on. The day I got the call my dad had collapsed and was being taken by ambulance to the hospital I was working in the office. It was a Monday. I immediately went into the sanctuary, to the piano, to assume the position. I battled for him, but that was the last day I did. Ironically, not long after, the church got rid of the piano, to make more room on stage for other forms of expression, I think. I’m not mad about it, but it did require a LOT of grieving. And, frankly, I lost a part of my voice that I have never quite found other expression for.
Since then, I have held in my heart a hope to one day own my own baby grand, in a house, one day. Probably when I’m married. One day.
Back to Mark...
So I made a comment on the public thread, then sent him a private inquiry. I was very tempted to disqualify myself, relinquish to another worthy candidate. But I coached myself to stay in the game. The door might close on me, but I should not be the one to close it. So, I simply kept the conversation going and gave it time to play out.
In the meantime I researched the piano—made by Chicago Cable Piano Company, a premier piano manufacturer in the early 1900s. I once heard a teaching by Dan McCollum who believed the best musical prayers over a land happen when using instruments made from the resources of the land. I believed him. As a committed intercessor for Chicago, this drew my heart to this instrument even more. Besides the fact it was owned by a Director of a House of Prayer (!)
What happens next is a bit of a mystery but next thing I know Mark and I are arranging a time for me to come and meet the piano. The rest, as they say, is history.
I will tell you, when I sat down to play it for the first time it had the most wonderful sparkle—that’s the best word I can think to describe it—though I’m not entirely sure if this was the sound of the piano or the sound of my dreams coming to life.
The reason for this campaign:
The piano is now in my home. It had a bit if a rough move in to my second floor apartment, not as young as it used to be. The pedal board is falling out of its spot, some keys are missing part of their ivory, certain scratches simply can’t remain as they are, and of course it needs tuning and regulation. So, for the most part, I have let it “rest” this summer.
It’s now time to pursue the restoration.
I have found a company (through dear friends) that will bring it into their shop and do a complete work, inner mechanics, outer shell, repairs, regulation and tuning. The quote he gave me was $2000 for minimum work plus about $700 for transport. A crowd funding project feels natural to me as I have always felt at home in community, especially when it comes to music and worship. And I promise to have you all over for piano soaking nights! Or send you an hour of improvised piano music like this one I made back in the day [message me for a free copy].
To bring restoration to this piano all feels so poetic. To restore the piano is to restore a part of me lost long ago along the bumpy road of progress. New things aren’t always best, sometimes old things—restored, renewed, and given new life—are.
--
If you have a favorite memory, have been impacted by my playing, or want to share encouragement, I’d love to read it in the Comments.
That’s me—I told him so, with not a second of hesitation.
This campaign is about exactly that ❤️
--
Mark was a director of a house of prayer in a northwestern corner of Chicagoland, friend of a friend of mine, and had this piano in his home long enough for he and his wife Kathy to raise their girls on a lifestyle of prayer and worship too.
When Mark first posted on Facebook that they were moving and had a baby grand piano to give to a good home, my friend Julie quickly tagged me. I found her response toward the top of a stream of others that included comments like “I know a church that's been looking, this would be an answer to prayer.” “I’m a longtime piano teacher, it’s my dream to have a baby grand.”
My own prayers and dreams fit right in, though I didn’t know if they measured up to these grander causes.
But, secretly, I knew in my heart... mine was grand too.
Growing up, almost every night Mom would make her way to the piano. Barry Manilow songbooks or old musicals were favorites, but one of my strongest memories was walking up the back staircase in my pajamas with the fading refrain of “Send in the Clowns” following me. Such a melancholy tune, my heart soaked in every note.
My sister and I took piano lessons from Mrs. Radke, my mom’s childhood piano teacher, the lady with the cats. I went on to study piano in college, practicing on well-worn practice room baby grands, giving recitals on shiny black stage grands. When I moved to Chicago I was astonished to find work at a church that had a grand piano on stage—within reach for this girl who now had keys. I would go in to work early to begin my day in prayer (at the piano) or come back later in the evening to spend an hour just improvising, sometimes in the dark for dramatic effect. It was where my heart could focus, could find its voice, could sing; it was where I felt most connected to God in prayer. It was where I learned to move with the Spirit through music.
Additionally, during my office hours, if I found myself stuck on a project, needing creative inspiration for a design project or even a fresh perspective on an excel sheet, I would go in and play a page of Mozart--it helped!
My time at the piano was also a constant companion through years of friends and family battling cancer. Some won to fight another day, some passed on. The day I got the call my dad had collapsed and was being taken by ambulance to the hospital I was working in the office. It was a Monday. I immediately went into the sanctuary, to the piano, to assume the position. I battled for him, but that was the last day I did. Ironically, not long after, the church got rid of the piano, to make more room on stage for other forms of expression, I think. I’m not mad about it, but it did require a LOT of grieving. And, frankly, I lost a part of my voice that I have never quite found other expression for.
Since then, I have held in my heart a hope to one day own my own baby grand, in a house, one day. Probably when I’m married. One day.
Back to Mark...
So I made a comment on the public thread, then sent him a private inquiry. I was very tempted to disqualify myself, relinquish to another worthy candidate. But I coached myself to stay in the game. The door might close on me, but I should not be the one to close it. So, I simply kept the conversation going and gave it time to play out.
In the meantime I researched the piano—made by Chicago Cable Piano Company, a premier piano manufacturer in the early 1900s. I once heard a teaching by Dan McCollum who believed the best musical prayers over a land happen when using instruments made from the resources of the land. I believed him. As a committed intercessor for Chicago, this drew my heart to this instrument even more. Besides the fact it was owned by a Director of a House of Prayer (!)
What happens next is a bit of a mystery but next thing I know Mark and I are arranging a time for me to come and meet the piano. The rest, as they say, is history.
I will tell you, when I sat down to play it for the first time it had the most wonderful sparkle—that’s the best word I can think to describe it—though I’m not entirely sure if this was the sound of the piano or the sound of my dreams coming to life.
The reason for this campaign:
The piano is now in my home. It had a bit if a rough move in to my second floor apartment, not as young as it used to be. The pedal board is falling out of its spot, some keys are missing part of their ivory, certain scratches simply can’t remain as they are, and of course it needs tuning and regulation. So, for the most part, I have let it “rest” this summer.
It’s now time to pursue the restoration.
I have found a company (through dear friends) that will bring it into their shop and do a complete work, inner mechanics, outer shell, repairs, regulation and tuning. The quote he gave me was $2000 for minimum work plus about $700 for transport. A crowd funding project feels natural to me as I have always felt at home in community, especially when it comes to music and worship. And I promise to have you all over for piano soaking nights! Or send you an hour of improvised piano music like this one I made back in the day [message me for a free copy].
To bring restoration to this piano all feels so poetic. To restore the piano is to restore a part of me lost long ago along the bumpy road of progress. New things aren’t always best, sometimes old things—restored, renewed, and given new life—are.
--
If you have a favorite memory, have been impacted by my playing, or want to share encouragement, I’d love to read it in the Comments.
Organizer
Jen Aldrich
Organizer
Riverside, IL