Change is Hard: Breathe Deeply

Yes, that’s a piano on my front porch, and no, we’re not adding a couch or refrigerator. This is the story of a vintage piano and the difficulties of change.

My piano is a 104-year-old albatross and like many heirlooms, it’s more valuable in sentiment than it is in appraisal. It was my great-grandmother’s and as children my siblings and I played it whenever we visited her in northern Indiana. We thought it great fun because it had a lever that dropped metal clips in front of the strings and gave them a tinny, honkey-tonk sound. Later, when I was blessed with ownership of this piano, I discovered much of the old sheet music stored in its bench befitted this style, songs like “Maple Leaf Rag” and “Basin Street Blues.”

I’ve had this piano as long as I’ve been married, almost 46 years. I moved it to three different houses before finally settling it into the farmhouse we bought in 1987. I taught my kids on this piano. I taught neighborhood kids. I’ve played songs like “Hakuna Matata” and “Jesus Loves Me” for my grandkids. Over the decades we’ve banged out duets, joys, and frustrations.

In recent years, here’s what we have not done on this piano—we haven’t joined together to make music. Typical of old pianos, the soundboard has cracked and it can no longer be tuned to pitch, making it hard to play with other instruments. Hammers stick and strings rattle. The wood veneer and ivory keys are chipping faster than I can re-glue them. A hundred years is a long time for a piano.

Deciding to replace my piano has been a tug on my heart. On one hand is the heritage of this piece. On the other is a desire for a functioning instrument and the joy of making music together. Moving my beloved piano to its temporary spot on the porch is like putting a child into the cold as I make room for another.

Change is hard. Breathe deeply.

That said, this coming 2025 will also bring changes for Adunate. No, I’m not retiring! But I am inching toward that horizon by rerouting my some of my directions. As of January, I will no longer offer web design, maintenance, or troubleshooting services. Obviously, web design doesn’t carry the history of my piano, but it’s been part of my creative work for decades. I’ve always enjoyed the puzzle-solving challenge and I’ve had wonderful clients. This decision didn’t come lightly—breathing deeply—but it’s a good one in this good time. If you’re looking for reliable and skillful recommendations, let me know.

Breathing Deeply in 2025

Navigating change requires a step outside one’s comfort zone. It’s hard, isn’t it? But they say change also brings opportunities for growth and blessings. My family spent fun Thanksgiving and Christmas gatherings playing music together on my new-to-me piano. Focusing on print design will allow me time for special projects that have sat on the back burner far too long.

I’m taking a breath and giving change a chance. “Breathe deeply” are my words for 2025.

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