I love old stuff, well most old stuff. Looking at the design and structure of the piano, you can reach back and see history (I know I sound like a broken record when I talk about old things). And honestly, someone probably put a lot of positive energy into that piano when they crafted it (I can't see someone angrily carving piano legs, but I could be wrong). But in a moment of indecision, I hesitated and decided not to try to push that heavy piano back to my place to save it from the rain, the roaches and the dumpster crew.
I guess I thought I had more time, or at least I assumed I wouldn't worry about the poor piano. I know that the trash removal people do not take large objects next to the trash, so I figured I'd have enough time, as long as it didn't rain, to think about it and maybe save it after my sister got back into town (two people are better than one if you're trying to move large objects).
It's been three days without rain, but the piano didn't last 24 hours at the dumpster. The next morning I awoke to a banging noise. When I finally got outside to do my errands, I saw that there were three people at the dumpster smashing the piano to bits with a large hammer. I know it sounds dramatic, but this scene made me sick. Not only am I a staunch preservationist but I also think that musical instruments should be revered, not destroyed. I can't say if this is up there with how I feel about burning books, but it's probably pretty damn close.
So my emotional response to the destruction of the antique piano doesn't stop with this written rant. I've also taken pictures of the remains: