A tribute to my 18 year old Alex Steinbach piano

After much deliberation, I've decided to dispose my piano that has been with me for the past 18 years.

It's been sitting in the corner of my living room, growing mould and collecting dust. I can hardly even play it anymore. The last time I tried playing, the keys get stuck together. This is due to the humidity; it causes keys to stick together, the tones are a bit off and the nails inside get rusted too. All because we didn't install a humidity air control system when we first transported it over from Melbourne.

Pity. I have some photos of my piano and me at the age of 8, but I need to scan it in.

I didn't want to get rid of it previously because I thought that it could act as an ornament and perhaps remind me of my childhood back in Australia. But it's not practical to leave it there because it might end up as a breeding ground for termites and all sorts of other dust mites. I dread lifting the top as I'm afraid that some big bug might pounce on me! Even the scores in the compartment of my piano seat are yellow and old. I've decided to keep them.


Aren't humans unappreciative? You've got something there with you all this time but you never appreciated it, played with it or maintained it, and now that it's about to be disposed at some NEA dumping ground , you start moping about how you would miss it. And I'm sure I would whenever I see an ebony upright piano.

I guess what makes it so unbearable to part with it is because it was a huge gift from my parents. Learning the piano wasn't something they forced upon me; it was something that I volunteered to learn. I remember during my Grade 1 examination, they dolled me up in a red velvet dress and they accompanied me to the Royal School of Music along St. Kilda Road; my father in his suit and tie, and my mother in her dress.

They waited for me outside the examination room and I think I came out almost in tears because I was so afraid of the examiner and I was so shy to hum the notes (this was part of the examination; you had to be able to pitch).

I continued learning till Grade 4. By this time, my family had already moved to Singapore but my piano was still in Melbourne. Because I didn't have a piano, I didn't manage to practice much. I think I didn't even do well in my Grade 4 examinations because of this.

About 3 years later, my mom requested to have my piano sent back from Australia and I believe a lot of money went into removing, shipping and transporting it. I wonder what my dad will say if he knew that we plan to dispose it.

I soon gave up learning to play the piano because I was so caught up with other stuff - friends, school, relationships and family feuds. I then went to Melbourne in 1999 to do my tertiary educaiton and only came back to play it occasionally.

My piano is one of the final remnants of my childhood. Once I've disposed of it, the remaining item I have from my childhood would be my set of Encyclopedia Britannica from Webster's. It's currently stashed somewhere. I think I'll buy a cabinet to display them.

Strange as it might sound, the piano reminds me of my dad because to me, it represents masculinity, and the encyclopedia set reminds me of my mom because she spent about $2,000 from her own pocket to buy it as a gift for me.

I guess once the piano is out of sight, it would slowly fade away from the mind too.

And in return, a cabinet with some dull ornaments and photo frames will be replacing the corner where it once stood, neglected, yet full of memories and character. Hell, it even travelled across the Indian Ocean!

I also have plans to get an electric piano instead because it saves space and I can play it with headphones on. But that might not happen in the next two years.

Such things just make me wish we didn't move to Singapore.