Love thy neighbor...

A story: For a Christmas/Graduation Present Casey got me a 4.5 ft. baby-grand piano (gotta love Craigslist) (and people who are in a hurry to get off the island). I adore the piano. Yes, I do mean this particular piano, whose name is Spencer (because it's a Kimball brand ... get it?), but also the piano in general. I can get lost playing. Time doesn't exist, everything just fades - stresses, worries, "holy cow we're having a baby!?", etc. - I just absolutely love it. I've written the majority of my songs on the piano. I love Chopin, Ben Folds, the Hymns ... I'm sure you get it - I love the piano.

Spencer and the Christmas Tree.

So of course I like to play Spencer frequently. In fact, when we first got it I was finishing up a song and played as much as Addi would let me (which was about 2 hrs. a day). That was in January. One day around 2:30 pm while I was playing I heard an authoritative knock on my door *BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM* (5 quick strokes). I know my neighbors' knocks, and this was not a familiar knock. I was afraid my front neighbor's baby was injured and she was in a frantic-mother frenzy of needing my help, or something similarly terrible had happened. I threw open the door and the smell of nicotine drenched my nostrils, "I can't take it anymore! You play too much! I can't hear my TV!(insert other complaints here) I just can't take it anymore - I have the number of the man!!" (I still don't know whose number "the man's" is, but I do believe him that he has it.)

Me at age 5 with my piano and a friend. (I'm standing)

This was the first encounter with our anonymous neighbor - we'll call him Tim. The second encounter was a mere week or so later, and this time Tim was accompanied by my landlord (who is a kind and easy-going elderly gentleman and is often in the area) and I was accompanied by Miha, seeing as we were in the middle of recording a song. Tim said it was too loud and I needed to close my windows because again he couldn't hear his TV - I pointed out that my windows were already in fact closed (hence the sweat dripping down my pregnant face). yada yada - he was much nicer this time. I guess he was showing off for the landlord, or maybe for Miha. Again it was in the 2 o'clock pm hour.

Me, my mullet, my piano (age 12-13ish)

Third encounter: approximately 45 minutes ago. You see, I haven't much played the piano since the second encounter back in late January. Why? Perhaps I felt threatened, didn't want to play if I couldn't put my heart and soul into it (which is interpreted by Tim as "loud"), been busy - mostly just didn't want to put up with the neighbor. But today I was just having a great day (literally - not being facetious here). Beach in the morning, painted some furniture while Addi slept, did the dishes and two loads of laundry - you know, one of those days where you feel ultra productive, and I thought, "Hey Self, you ought to have a treat of some piano-playing right about now." And Self agreed, so I played. I was way into it, playing some songs I wrote back as a sophy at Snow College (that was '02), reworking some of my countermelodies - I was having the time of my life. And Addi was even sitting beside me playing along.

On the mission, moving a piano for a random lady; I volunteered to stand guard and make sure it wasn't stolen.

So, same thing, *BAM* x 5. I was quite frustrated to have my "groove" interrupted, but of course I answered. Tim said something about "competing with me", "I'll turn up my TV!" which is fine with me. Said he was sick of hearing my singing, which I didn't take as a personal insult because I can clearly hear the music his household listens to and I'm okay with them not liking my style. He said if he has to come back again he'll "use a four letter word" (I wanted to ask which one - maybe "pink" or "cats" or even "taco", but I didn't want to cut him off mid-sentence. That's just plain rude.) I explained that I had hardly played in two months - he said he had kept a log of when I played. (That's good - if I ever get back into lessons I won't have to keep a practice log; I'll just go check with him.)


He said he was calling the cops "if it happens again". I just wanted clarification so I asked, "By 'it' you mean me playing the piano? Right? Cause it's likely to happen again tomorrow." I guess he didn't like that. I also asked him what exactly the cops were supposed to do. "Do you want their opinion on my playing? I really don't think they're gonna care that I'm playing the piano at 2 o'clock in the afternoon."


"I keep a log. I know when you play." I was glad he reaffirmed this. I had almost forgotten.


I explained that I could kindly keep a similar log of every time his 5:30 am cigarette woke me up with a near asthma attack, or when his radio was turned up so loud that we could hear the background static when the DJ was talking, or when his hyena-laughing guests would wake my toddler up at 3 am and he said, "Go ahead!" I then explained that this was all ridiculous, "We're neighbors. Are you serious? We don't need to behave like this ... we're neighbors." He stormed off proclaiming, "I'm not coming back here! I'm tired of this! Next time it's the cops!!"

Me and Addi playing Spencer with the blue glow of Case's fishtank in the background.

So I'm kind of excited for the cops to come tomorrow. One of my old mission companion's fathers is a cop assigned to mostly the Laie/Hau'ula/Kahuku area. It would be fun if he is the one that comes - I haven't seen him in a couple months. I bet he will like my music.