From the Top of the Stairs

From the Top of the Stairs

From the Top of the Stairs

From the Top of the Stairs

Excerpt

BEFORE I went to school, I thought -- if I thought about it at all -- that all fathers lunched at home and that all houses were filled with the sounds of the rehearsals of singers or wind instruments. Front halls quite naturally had a couple of cellos standing in them, dressed in neat brown overcoats which under no conditions must be touched. I thought most homes had at least three pianos.

Pianos followed us everywhere. They came up trunk elevators in hotels, they were hauled by ropes through apartment house windows, and in the country they were drawn by farm horses in great wagons. They were usually the largest grands that Steinway's could furnish. It never seemed possible when they were delivered, with the legs off and their strings exposed, that they could be fitted together, and my sisters and I would watch anxiously to see if they would really turn . . .

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