With love, Bernadette
You heard it here first, folks: I’m moving on from moving.
I’ve had a lot of escapades in my day, and I wouldn’t dream of having it any other way. But it’s time for a little more stability in my life. And I figure that now that I’m in my prime, maybe it’s time to stop recklessly putting myself at risk and find someone who loves me just as I am.
Well-Tempered Bernadette
I should have known this would be a life filled with adventure when I first arrived to my not-so-forever home on Valentine’s Day, 2004. I wasn’t allowed to be moved to the second floor indoors, as the stairwell had too many sharp turns, so it was the rickety, wooden fire escape stairs for me. The movers declared:
“We can move her in, but we’re not moving her out!”
Thankfully, my owner’s partner is pretty handy with a hammer and nails, and he reinforced those stairs for my departure one short year later.
All told, I’ve lived on 3 different continents in the past dozen years: North America, Europe and Asia. As I’m sure you know, moving can be a challenge for anyone’s temperament. And it’s true that I’m not always Well-Tempered. But I don’t see it as being out of tune, rather more like having an accent! When we lived in Vienna, the piano tuner decided I would sound better if I had the local dialect, so he tuned me up to 442. I felt so bright and shiny! But it was really challenging to maintain this alter ego, and it wasn’t long before I felt myself slipping back to my old ways at 440.
How that piano technician pampered and spoiled me! The first time I ever met him, he vacuumed me clean. I imagine it feels as fantastic as having your face vacuumed (my owner, let’s call her Vagabond Valerie, assures me that’s a thing). And he really tickled my ivories the time he refurbished all my hammers. There was no denying I had a new spring in my action after spending a couple of weeks alone with him in his shop for my own personal spa-cation.
Berndadette at home in Vienna, ready for her Aurora Polaris debut
The next time I crossed the Atlantic, it was to move to Oslo. What was already meant to be a short stay became further truncated when I was held up in the port due to some pretty treacherous, icy conditions. I chipped a key on that move. It’s actually a hilarious story, but I’ve never told Vagabond how it happened: she wouldn’t understand that a girl just needs to get out and have a good time every once in a while. Anyway, she was too distracted about my pedal board, which also got damaged on that little excursion.
Bernadette and Vagabond Valerie, together in Oslo
It wasn’t long after returning to Ottawa from Oslo that I found out I was moving to … the capital city of Kazakhstan!!
You may be wondering where in the world that is.
The city of Nur-Sultan, formerly known as Astana, is in the very isolated region of Siberia.
I was pretty stoked – this was going to be the longest cruise I’d ever been on! In a stroke of genius, I had the most fabulous idea: why not take advantage of the opportunity and turn it into a vacation! If my Viennese spa-cation was any indication, I’d be playing better than ever!
Ladies and gentlemen, there is a reason that you have not seen any grand pianos in great positions of leadership.
It started off well: I simply distracted a few customs officials with my ravishing good looks and my impressive bulk and I was soon southward-bound to cross the Panama Canal instead of going across the Atlantic to Riga, which I’d already done so many times before. After two, short but glorious weeks, I landed in the beautiful Chinese port-city of Qingdao – you may know it as the home of Tsingdao beer.
After about 4 months of living it up on the harbour front, it started to sink in that maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. This wasn’t anything like my Vienna holiday, when I was working on bettering myself. This time, hanging around with all those longshoremen was starting to affect both my accent and my temper. It was time for this prodigal piano to move home. Luckily, before I was lost to my partying ways forever, Vagabond Valerie found me, and I had a one-way train ticket to Kazakhstan.
But it seemed that I’d used up all my travel mercies: after leaving Qingdao, I was arrested at the Chinese-Kazakh boarder for not having a passport (yeah, I didn’t know I needed one either). It took me 2 months to arrive at my owner’s apartment complex. This joyous event was brusquely commemorated by the movers dropping me off the truck 3 times! I’ve never really recovered from that move, and I’ve still got the scars to prove it. But I’m a tough, reliable gal, and what doesn’t break you makes you.
Battered, but not broken. Scars from falling off the truck
Most recently, I was living in Geneva. This is where I became famous! My owner’s weekly piano lessons at other institutions became virtual lessons starring me, Bernadette! Vagabond started sharing videos of the two of us making music together. I was in the limelight and loving it. I even had my own mini-series: Well-Tempered Bernadette: a Piano’s Tale of 5 Cities!
But now I’m back where I belong. Home. Ottawa. I’ve done it all: moves with so much padding you could have sent me to the moon, and moves where I could have used a little extra insulation. That pedal board of mine finally got fixed here in Ottawa, thanks to Troy, my tuner. It had gotten to the point where it needed a lot of extra support in Geneva, and had to resort to getting propped up with a couple of hymnals and some Canadian Living Magazines. Troy had that pedal board all fixed up 20 minutes after our reunion in Ottawa. That man has gotten me out of more scrapes than I can shake a hammer at!
I was hoping to see Vagabond’s next house. I hear she is building one from the bottom up. But it’s not ready yet, and it would mean moving two more times in the next couple of months. And I’m done with detours. I’m settling down.
It’s Valentine’s Day, and I’m looking for my true love! I promise to be good and not run away on an extended vacation. Would you rescue me? Will you accept me for all my scars and flaws? Like anyone, my love can be bought, for the right price.
What I’m trying to say is:
“I’m for sale.”
With love,
Well-Tempered Bernadette
*Serious inquiries only to valerie@valeriedueck.com
