In 1935 a Man named Ted bought a piano. Ted played his piano often, and soon he learned to play it well. His wife and two daughters adored his beautiful playing and enjoyed it when the sounds would fill the house until it smiled.           One and a half years later after he finished up work at the electrical plant he had a few of his mates over for dinner and, after they had finished their meal one of them, named Phil, asked him if he would play the piano for them. Ted, being an introvert when it came to his playing, refused gratuitously, but Phil would not have it. “Play us one of your songs your wife speaks so highly of” Phil demanded. “I really couldn’t” Ted desperately protested. After a bit more of this nonsense Ted eventually sat down at the piano bench and let out a big sigh “pphhhhhouuu” said his lungs. And he filled the house until it giggled with overwhelming joy. His friends applauded. “Marvelous!” exclaimed Phil “You must come play at my bar!” They argued this out long into the night, and maybe it was the third whiskey, or possibly the late hour, but Ted eventually agreed to come play at Phil’s bar across town. The piano couldn’t wait, it knew it was going places.      A week later Phil was driving Ted to his bar. “You know why it’s called Nate’s bar?”  Phil asked ted quizzically. “No, I don’t think you ever said.” Ted replied dryly. “Well” Phil said knowingly “Phil’s bar just didn’t sound great so we went with Nate’s”. “Interesting” Ted remarked. Phil’s old station wagon sputtered as they pulled up to the bar. The place was packed. Ted had his piano brought to the venue earlier in the day and it was waiting for him inside. Ted was nervous and he told Phil so. “It’s gonna be great” Phil reassured him, and with that, they went inside.    Ted’s first gig went great. And so did the second. And the third. Soon Ted was playing at “Nate’s bar” every weekday night, sometimes Saturdays too. He was able to quit his job after just a month, the tips alone could pay the rent. And it went on like this for quite some time. Occasionally the topic of buying a piano for the bar came up but Ted was adamant. He wanted his piano to be on stage with him every time he played and to follow him home every night so he could practice late into the evening. The piano felt the same. Six months go by and he starts to play at jazz clubs across town, packing in every gig he plays. Everyone in his city began to know his name, and his reputation preceded him. He was fantastic.         Meanwhile World-War Two was on everyone’s minds, but we weren’t going to get involved. It wasn’t our fight, it was Europe’s and besides, what business was it of ours anyway? We were still benefitting, manufacturing goods for the allies (and pulling our ----- out of the ------ depression), and who’s to say that’s not enough? Our manpower belonged here at home. But the Japanese saw our support (and our trade embargo) as involvement, and they bombed Pearl Harbor. America wasn’t excited to get involved but if you tick us off enough to get us out of our BARCO® loungers, we will get the F*** up.           So Ted, A man of only twenty-five, went to war.  And the piano waited. And ted fought hard. And the piano waited. But after six months Ted’s wife stopped receiving letters. And the piano waited. And Ted was carried home. And the piano waited. And waited.       
The year is now 1976. The piano is still waiting for Ted, ever so patiently. It sees a figure it can’t make out through the cloth that covers its eyes. And it hears her talking, Ted’s wife, now old and frail. It hears her talking, but no one replies. Sometimes the piano can hear others visit, but they never stay for long. Occasionally someone will get its hopes up and sit on its bench, but never touch the keys, or dare look it in the eyes. So the piano just waits.