In December of 2004, I was driving by my mother’s house, and much to my surprise, lying on the ground at the foot of her driveway was the piano that I grew up playing. 

It was in pieces, waiting to be hauled off to piano heaven. 

For years, decades actually, the instrument wasn't playable.  It had been lying on its side with the legs removed in a garage.  The last time I remember playing it, between the strange tuning and the even more bizarre metallic sounds that accompanied many of the notes, it sounded like a “prepared piano.” 

I felt fortunate to have this last opportunity to say goodbye to the piano that I spent so much time with in my early years and which played a significant role in shaping the way that I hear music. 

I backtracked to my home to retrieve my camera and returned to take the "Piano Photos" that you now see on the various links of this web site in color, in faded form as backgrounds, in treated form amidst my bio, and all in one place below. 

My brother said that I should have kept the harp as a wall hanging. He was right, but I didn’t have the foresight, and it’s ancient history.  What did “they” do with the harp? 

Clifford Carter