<\/a><\/p>\n

I have considered writing this many times \u2013 but I never felt it was ready. It would be ready, I thought, when my mastery of the piano was complete. Or more realistically, when my proficiency <\/em>at the piano was deemed certifiable. Certifiable by whom, I was never sure. I now realize how silly that would be. The story would never be told.<\/p>\n

Two years ago, during a period of prolonged illness, I spent two months in my native Washington State. Words minced: it was a difficult time. A time in which there were few relaxing moments. I was preoccupied, even obsessed with the state of my health, as were the family members who surrounded me in a big, fuzzy love net. One such family member was my nephew-in-law, L, who to this day feels more like a smarter little brother. During some of the most trying moments of my condition, he would by force of habit or tremendous intuition, settle at his family\u2019s piano and begin to play. Improvise, really.<\/p>\n

L has been playing since he was tiny, as the framed photo atop his family\u2019s piano depicts. In it he sits \u2013 no older than 4 or 5, examining the keys with his grandfather. Due to his musical education, as well as an abnormally elevated intellect, L is a bit of a virtuoso on the keys. He sits at the piano when no one is really paying attention \u2013 when everyone is absorbed in work, or a book, or a Twitter hole. When it is the most quiet.<\/p>\n

Yet during intensified phases of my malaise, when everything was far from silent, his stunning melodies would split the chaos and fill the room with loveliness. The sound would completely pacify me. It entranced me. L\u2019s compositions are entirely improvised, but somehow sound like oeuvres that have been labored over for months. At the same time they sound effortless. The astounding thing about these arrangements is that they materialize from thin air. The devastating thing is that they are gone as swiftly as they are played \u2013 never recorded on paper or garage band.<\/p>\n

L\u2019s playing so moved me during those months; I wished I could hire him as my in-house pianist. Though I would never get anything done if he accepted the job. Piano hypnotizes me. If L begins playing while the rest of us read or knit, my activity halts when the first key is struck. My eyes slowly close. My chin drifts upward as if waiting for some higher revelation. I am bewitched.<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t simply a newfound fixation with piano music that sprouted from my time at home. There also grew an intense desire to play <\/em>the piano \u2013 to command the magical instrument itself.<\/p>\n

The latter infatuation lay dormant for months after I returned to New York. I can\u2019t remember if I consciously thought about learning piano. But when I heard the dizzying compositions of Nils Frahm<\/a> for the first time, I knew that was it. I spent my lunch breaks scouring Craigslist for keyboards, and an affordable teacher. Despite my highfalutin cravings for something fancy, like a Fender Rhodes or a Juno, my budget afforded me a $200 Kurzweil Ensemble Grande Piano<\/em>, which is a pretty rudimentary model. Within two days of hearing Frahm\u2019s music, the Kurzweil was mine. She\u2019s a sturdy one, and I named her Girtha on the account that she weighs, oh, about 500 pounds<\/strong>.<\/p>\n