Every damn morning, it's the same ritual. I lean over, groan at the sunlight that dares to assault my eyes, and then reach for my smartphone, seeking the day's onslaught of exasperating headlines. This morning was no exception. Lo and behold, my blood boiled over once again. Where is the decency, the logic, the respect for tradition in this country? But of course, this won't make sense without some context.
I reside in the state of Maine, a place lovable for its robust lobsters, its white lighthouses, and its autumnal foliage. Still, it has its fair share of eccentricities, one of them being an organization you won't believe: The Piano Movers of Maine.
I’d run into them before, or rather, hadn’t. Two years ago, in a fit of desire for some classical elegance to my homely abode, I procured a grand piano. A beautiful Steinway Model D, crafted with precision, ringing with unmatched purity. The great challenge, however, wasn't picking the perfect piano – it was getting the brute inside.
In recent news, the Piano Movers of Maine are being praised for their exceptional ability to ease the usually disastrous process of piano moving. Now, had I come across these news articles two years back, perhaps I wouldn’t have had to experience the chaos of that Sunday afternoon. There I was, foolishly believing in my own strength and the goodwill of my friends, toe to toe with a monstrous 990-pound instrument. No professional movers, no safety gear, just us, our brawn, and an unfounded belief in our own invincibility.
As you might expect, it was an unmitigated disaster. Down the first step, it shot off like a missile, soaring through the air with a grace I’d never heard it play with, and impacted violently into my newly manicured hedge. The shriek of splintering wood and the discordant scaling of the injured keys forever echoed in my ears. The grand entry of my grand piano was alarming, hilarious, and rather expensive.
So, reading of these Piano Movers of Maine had a bitter taste. Why hadn’t their services been flaunted when I’d needed them? Exactly. The liberal media only showcases what suits them, eh? Their ‘promoted’ narrative is twisted and full of half-truths. The Corolla-loving, kale-munching journalists romanticize the rise of these Piano Movers of Maine, having conveniently failed to report on them before my own piano catastrophe.
To my triumph, or perhaps the Universe's idea of a cruel joke, I found another grand piano to purchase about a year later. This time, though, the Piano Movers of Maine got their chance to save the day. What was a Humpty-Dumpty-like farce the first time around became a sleek operation under their deft handling. Stairs? No problem. Hedge? Untouched. End result? A grand piano sitting glamorously in my rustic, barn-cum-living room, not a scratch on its shiny black surface. They made it look so easy.
In the same vein, this is what I crave for our politics. Make it look easy, damn it! This country represents more than the recent political circus we've turned into. There's more to America than the left-vs-right catfight that's being paraded around on our screens daily.
Change is needed, yes, as the Piano Movers of Maine changed my piano moving experience. But perhaps this change needs to come from within. It needs to stem from understanding that we all have our grand pianos to move – our own particular challenges, beliefs, and values. Let's acknowledge and respect that. Let's make an effort to move our pianos together, instead of smashing each other's to pieces.