piano and pine cone caught in hoarded drizzle
It has been an interesting week in Santa Barbara. When I woke on Thursday, the weather app on my iPhone had a frightening icon - an icon unfamiliar to the local population. I immediately alerted Nazy.
“A Drizzle Warning has been issued for Santa Barbara!” I exclaimed.
“Wow.” Nazy mumbled.
“I’ll drive to the grocery store to stock up on batteries and foodstuffs. I want to be finished before the dastardly hoarders get wind of the alert.”
Fortunately, the drizzle emergency dissipated when the sun rose and burned off the thin clouds.
“In fact,” I explained to Nazy, “everything is thin here in California. Even the clouds. This is a physically fit state.”
“How many packages of Oreo cookies did you buy?” Nazy asked surveying my purchases.
“It was a potential crisis,” I replied.
“You’re completely out of your mind,” Nazy replied joyfully.
“What will I do with the 72 AAA batteries?” I thought.
The drizzle icon is rarely seen here. I have, however, scattered a selection of more common icons (earthquake, tsunami, forest fire) throughout the letter.
Drizzle averted, Nazy and I decided to fearlessly attack ‘The Storage’.
Flashback
Mitra was three years old. Wanting to create an optimal learning environment, we selected Montessori schooling and Suzuki Piano training. (We were an international family.) Nazy spoke to Mitra in Farsi and I watched football games with her on my lap. The Suzuki plan required..
“... a piano,” Nazy explained. “I’ve chosen a Currier upright.”
“Currier?”
“Currier has made pianos since 1823. John Adams had one, Dan. It’s a good choice.”
“How much does it cost?”
“Well..” Nazy replied, dancing.
We got the piano while we were living in Memphis. We transported it to Vancouver, Houston and Hanover, NH. Mitra grew up - and away from Suzuki. I hoped (fruitlessly) that scarcity would make our piano valuable. (Currier went out of business shortly after we made our purchase.) I tried to leave it in Hanover when we moved to The Hague. But, the renters wouldn’t take it. The piano even thwarted my garage sale efforts. (Perhaps the $1 price was too high.) It followed us to The Hague, back to Hanover and then to two different residences in Zurich.
The piano was resilient and resourceful, but I had worked at HP, I was used to projects that took forever. Opportunity knocked on the Sunday before we repatriated. I slyly convinced the owner of a nearby Vietnamese restaurant that the Suzuki Method was ideal for young daughter. Then I graciously sprung the trap: “And you can have our piano!”
The sadness of leaving Zurich after 12 years was balanced by the joy at finally disposing of The Piano.
End Flashback
“At least,” I thought as we continued to sort through the ruble in the storage facility, “there is no piano.” We located, for example, a newspaper review of The Physicists, a DramaTech play from my college days. (The reviewer liked my performance.) And then - I pulled out a large and heavy box of books to expose a blanket-covered...
“It’s an organ, Nazy!” I exclaimed. “It’s bigger and heavier than the piano,” I thought.
“We got that in Hanover, Dan. Somebody was moving and they ...”
“... found us to take the organ?”
“You agreed.” Nazy retorted.
“Agreed? Why? Did I think the organ was a spare kidney that might come in useful later? Was Melika dating a pipe organ specialist? Did..”
“Darius wanted it.”
“Oh that explains everything.”
Although the electric organ was heavier than the car (and the house), it was balanced by a competing find that was very lightweight.
“My pine cone collection!” Nazy enthused. “From Vancouver. We can make Christmas wreaths!”
“Wow! I hope it wasn’t illegal to bring these organic living materials into the USA.”
“Excuse me?”
“One of those pine cones could result in an alien species becoming rooted in California.”
“Alien? Like Jacaranda and Eucalyptus trees?”
“Those are from Australia.”
“Or ‘alien’ like The Swiss Family Martin?”
This week we also visited the Santa Barbara Museum of Contemporary Art. Nazy, a contemporary artist, was in her element. As an engineer who prefers pictures that look like something, I was like a mollusk on a trampoline. There was one interesting exhibit: a computer had tracked the movements of a baton-wielding conductor (while he directed a full orchestra playing Tchaikovsky Symphony No. 4). The computer reproduced the movement of the tip of the baton as black squiggles on a white background.
“I wonder how that would have sounded on our piano?” I thought.
Some of the other exhibits (a collection of driftwood wrapped in thread, an inflatable sofa and a chain found in a childhood farm) left me unmoved.
“Unmoved?” Nazy asked. “Monet was a contemporary artist 120 years ago.”
“So we have to wait 120 years for this stuff to become ‘good’?” I asked.
“I am a contemporary artist now.” Nazy reminded me.
“Contemporary art is my favorite,” I replied. “And you are my favorite temporary artist.”
We also found a 4-generation photo of The Martin Family Men: My grandfather, my Dad, Darius and me.
Finally, polls show that only 5% of the public approve of Congress’ performance. I have mental health concerns about the 5%. In fact, I suspect that even the second amendment crowd would be in favor of limiting gun sales to that 5%.
