Nick's Place

Nicholas Barnard Response: The Piano Lesson 4/24/2001

Upon first reading August Wilson's The Piano Lesson all of Wilson's prerequisite tools were used, food, a character-driven plot, religious critique and analysis, metaphorical and literal song. What I personally connect to is the desire to preserve one's past. I understand the arguments presented on both sides

In many ways I have had my own form piano lesson. When my parents got divorced, or more specifically when my mom moved out of the house she took several family items that had personal significance to me, the piano I learned how to play on, the jukebox that I used to listen to all the time, and various other items. It's been around six years since my mom moved these things out of the house she shared with my father. Since that time these items of significance have been slowly moved out of the house. The jukebox traded for some air conditioning work, the piano sold for some unneeded money, a couch I grew to love sold because it was “no longer used.” While I have never confronted my mom about selling the old items, I feel that she is selling my history. I remember spending hours playing that piano, I specifically could take the whole thing apart to a point and understood why this key didn't do this, and that key made a thunk instead of a note. (there were a few pencils lost to the bowels of the piano) I remember the jukebox we used to own, it was something that I always used to tie in my mind to my dad, because his company had made it, and it was because of him that we had gotten it. I feel as if this history was sold, but the ghosts have not followed it.

I'm only touching on the surface of this play, I feel like there is more to be said but I have memories that I don't want to delve into or consider at the moment. While Wilson's characters have somber memories to go with the piano, I remember mostly happy memories; things that I used to do and love, but now are much less accessible to me.

Wilson has brought back these memories, perhaps in a sense a shared blood memory of what I understand about the significance of items in our lives, and he has brought these items back to life in my mind.