The Piano Lesson
The will said the piano was hers, but her cousin’s widower said no. So she went to court to win her inheritance.
I stood before the judge representing myself in a Chicago court in 2001.
My cousin Roberta died two years prior. An accomplished contralto classical singer, she traveled the world and collected furs, fine China, rugs, and jewelry. She cooked goose, made waffles from scratch, and held close a sweet potato pie recipe. Our family watched her sing in a chorale and solo on Sunday evenings at Chicago’s orchestra hall on the local PBS station.
She shared her love of music with the family. She introduced me to the piano. Suddenly she was gone and her absence thrust me into a painful, emotional fight for a sentimental object legally mine. In her will, Roberta left me her ebony upright Mason & Hamlin piano. Her second husband, also a musician, contested my inheritance. He claimed Roberta bequeathed the piano to him.
I flew in from St. Paul, Minnesota, where I worked as a newspaper reporter. No one expected me to show up for the court date. Not Roberta’s widower nor his lawyer. The judge raised his gavel for a continuance.
No, I told the judge, shuffling papers. I have a story.
