THE UPRIGHT PIANO by Richard Laviolette

From the late 1700s to the mid 1800s, the Mozart-era piano went through tremendous changes that led to the modern form of the piano we know of today. Composers and pianists wanted a more powerful, sustained piano sound. The industrial revolution provided the technological resources necessary to meet their demands such as higher quality steel for the piano strings and precision casting for the production of iron frames. Over time, the tonal range of the piano increased from the five octaves of Mozart's day to the seven and one quarter octave range found on pianos today. In 1800, Mathias Muller in Vienna and John Isaac Hawins in Philadelphia both produced vertical standing pianos in which, for the first time, the strings were extended behind the keyboard to the foor. There came to be four types of verticle pianos that were categorized based on their height: spinet, console, studio, and upright. The upright piano is any verticle piano 50 to 60 inches in height. Lower production cost and smaller footprint propelled the upright piano into most homes by the end of the 1800's. By the beginning of the 1900's, the upright piano became the only affordable alternative to the grand piano.

I remember having an upright piano at the yellow brick house where I lived until I was 13. It was giant and brow, with moving parts like some prehistoric creature. It was taller than I was. It was quiet most of the day but in a matter of seconds it could be as loud as any of us. I would crawl all over it as if it were Falkor the lucky dragon from The Neverending Story. By studying its parts I could learn more about its purpose and where it came from. On our piano there were wood panels on the front you could slide open. The top lifted open as well. You could peer inside the chest of this strange creature to examine its heart, its ribcage, and its lungs. I also saw other organs that I did not recognize.

Some of my earlier memories are of me sitting on the piano bench carefully pressing down different keys to see what happened when they moved. I would listen to the note and the thickness of the vibration. I would play a few notes at the same time quietly, loudly. Would they melt together like a river or would they repel each other and explode?
Some met me like a gentle breeze and some met me like a rumbling cloud of bees.

Due to its size, the upright piano was the only instrument we had that required us to also treat it like a piece a furniture. Often the layout of a room would depend on where you could fit the piano. When it wasn't being used for musical purposes, it was busy holding up family photos, a few board games, some books, a pair of glasses, candles, and perhaps a half finished bottle of beer. When an appropriate place to move the piano was decided upon and it was finally moved from its moorings, it left an imprint behind. The carpet and wallpaper were now a different colour than the rest of the room. There was a layer of dust, dirt, and dog hair making a home for a few many-legged insects. This kind of resembled what a rotting peach would leave beind after being pulled from the fridge. There were also lost toys, some you never knew had left your side. Some army figurines, marbles, a bouncy ball, a few foam darts to a once-obsessed-over-gun your brother got you for your last birthday. It's quite intriguing for a ten-year-old boy to witness. On one hand, the event of having moved something that previously seemed unmovable; on the other hand, observing the passing of time and learning about what kind of ecosystem can grow in the darkness of the underside of our upright piano.

Growing up, the majority of my aunts and uncles had upright pianos. Everyone had one in their home. It was as important as a computer. Now it seems like people can't give them away. I think people still appreciate the idea of the piano. So many of us wish we knew how to play the piano but don't know how. On a certain level I see that as a lack of discipline and focus. In my head, I imagine that for our parents there were more forced music lessons for the child's own good. I took violin lessons for about two weeks and then quit. I couldn't imagine being forced to continue those lessons against my will. Perhaps I would have been able to hack my way through a few fiddle tunes but I would have hated my parents. Whatever the reason may be, the upright piano is in decline. With a million keyed alternatives, who still needs an upright piano? Now anyone can own a light-weight, apartment sized keyboard with weighted keys, build-in speakers and headphones and never make a sound again. When we moved out of the yellow brick house, my parents decided to get rid of the upright piano. It was too heavy to move, took up too much space, and we no longer gathered around it. The piano was probably given away to the first person who was motivated enough to move it. Most pianos now end up getting sold for a hundred dollars at an auction or stored in the back of some old grey barn.

This spring I bought my first upright piano. I bought it for $200 from a woman I found online and paid a company $400 to move it into my house. No one in my house has a very high level of training, but we are all very grateful to have this in our lives. It was difficult at first to find a good spot to put it. We ended up going with the living room, basically the only room it fits in. It very quickly made the room warmer and more inviting. It honestly made the space feel more like home. The upright piano is very inviting and encourages people to congregate. Another bonus to having this instrument living in our home, are all the secret musicians who walk through the door. Before they were unrecognizable to the naked eye, but now we have the keys) to unlock their magic talents and in broad daylight friends who never once made mention of having taken a single piano lesson sit down play masterful works of music before heading off with their day.

HOME by byron

home is more than four walls and a roof. home for me if defined as the landscape around the house in which i am living. home is, and more than, the place where the house stands, the neighbourhood which it inhabits and the surrounding environment. home is the friends on my block with whom i conspire to escape the block. for me home is less often defined by bricks and wood, but instead by the rocks which line the creek which flows through the woods. it is the rivers. it is the apple trees down the trail and all the small weeds which teach me how to care for myself and those around me. home is where the heart is, and i bleed out the same blood which pumps all over this land. my blood feeds forest roots as forest roots feed me.

never in my life have i ever lived in the same house for longer than two years. i feel this has been a blessing. it has meant i have learned to navigate broader environments, exploring the trails as to how to get from here back to there, and then back to here again. i grew up in the city of brampton in ontario. we moved 9 times in 19 years, yet despite the different houses, neighbourhoods and friends, home could still be found when laying in the high grass and brush edging the etobicoke creek. after brampton there were many years wandering, restlessly searching for a new home across the continent. i went to toronto, halifax, victoria, and many other cities which had no lasting hold on me, until finally coming to guelph, where the two rivers meet, and i decided to live.

guelph is only 4 towns over from brampton, and it only takes 13 hours to walk the tracks to get between the two. it is small enough to not feel too crowded in as did toronto, hali-fax or victoria, but still big enough to meet new people and learn new things, to challenge and to be challenged. the people i've met here have been matched only by the teachings of the eramosa and speed rivers which run through town and out towards the grand river, and on to lake erie. guelph has certainly been a confluence of varied forces in my life and shaped me as the rivers do the shores. i am now embedded within a community of flux and friendship, of intimacy and initiative where the folks i know strive to work their dreams into reality.

home, where ever it may be, comes with resonant joys as much as it holds deep sorrow and terror. southern ontario is a site of hyper development, with an entrenching colonial stranglehold on the land base which will inevitably lead to the concretization of nearly the entire landscape bordered by polluted creeks, rivers and lakes. and to protect the project of ongoing development, the state's clenched fist, the police, work to decimate any possible resistance to the dominant direction of destruction. be it endless industrial growth of huge corporate farms, oil pipelines, or residential development projects advancing like a slow footed army pulling up topsoil, home is being devastated.

i consider home as the greater concept of the land base, the watershed and the air we breathe, and when i do i wonder then why we don't do more together to protect our home? why wouldn't you stop someone who came along and decided to dump a bunch toxic chemicals in your yard? if you saw a strange man dressed like a storm trooper beating one of your neighbours with a nightstick, wouldn't you try and stop them? if folks came along with a bulldozer and started tearing up your lawn and porch to build a 24 story condo development, wouldn't you be pissed? this isn't about property, or ownership of the land. it's about the places we share with the people we live with, live near to, and those who live downstream from us, chronologically and topographically.

home is a place to feel protected by and to protect. it is a place to nurture with love and respect for those who will live there long after we are gone and the place where we fertilize the soil with the memory and honour of those who came before us. it is the strength we carry into the future and the anchor which connects us to the past. home is where the heart is, and where it pumps and mixes our blood with the water which sustains all life. it is worth defending.