Wishes for Year Two

At the end of January I'll begin my second year of piano playing and I'll have a firmer command of my Maslovian Hierarchy of needs, wants and desires concerning where I want to take this lovely obsession. I know one item I've been itching to address: an upgrade of my keyboard.

If you're not familiar with Abe Maslow's Hierarchical Pyramid, Here it is to the right. My own Pyramid is a little different. At the bottom level are the usual items like shelter and food. Just above that are coffee, Oreos, ice cream, and peanut butter. Above that, opera and other cultural delights. Then on the higher levels, friendship, watching the world slide precipitously into Hell, and at the very top, the Glorious Clavinova. (You'll notice sex slid off my agenda years ago; I just don't even try anymore. Too much trouble, and with opera and piano playing I can go to sleep immediately afterward without having to shower.)

But enough about the dysfunctions of my Id and Superego, back to the Clavinova. I thought my Casio Privia would see me through many years of happy practice, but now I want a Yamaha Clavinova or one of the upscale Roland smart pianos. I don't even really want one with the bells-and-whistles, although the ones with the on-board Symphony Orchestra that plays along with you--complete with a miniature animatronic figure of James Levine that pops out and conducts--are kinda spiffy; I just want a model that exactly imitates a Grand Piano in feel and sound.

So what's yer beef? you ask. Go ahead and get one. Well, the price tags on one of these spiffy devices begin round $2500-$3000, and go upward from there to amounts I don't even want to commit to print for the real beauties that resemble Baby Grands.

The further problem is that even with a price tag of three large, living in this day and age in America--God Bless Her--with financing and Easy Payment Plans--I could do this. If I financed one of these Machines of Terrible Beauty for a year, let's say, payments of a hundred or so a month wouldn't be much of anything. I spend that on frivolities. My lessons, in fact, cost about that--not that lessons are a frivolity. But I could cut out a few indulgences and easily free up a hundred a month.

I hate financing, though; if I'm going to have anything to do with compound interest, I want it to work in my favor. Believe it or not, I don't have any credit cards. Not a one. I have a bank card which is a credit/debit card and that's it. If I can't afford something, I save money until I can buy it.

However, there's layaway, which doesn't have a finance charge.

The Imp of Temptation which rests on my shoulder and constantly rubs his tiny hands, twitches his tiny tail and whispers sweet nothings in my ear tells me if I put one of these sweet things in layaway, I can pay as I go and then sell my Casio at the very end for the last big payment. No finance charge. No painful pressure to meet the payments since layaway has small requirements and I can make bigger payments as I enjoy windfalls. There's nothing to lose, says this Imp.

No I am a man of iron. Like Oscar Wilde, I can resist anything. Anything, that is, except temptation. I found out Starbucks makes ice cream and joined the ranks of the damned. Good God, what evil genius thought of combining espresso with ice cream? You might as well combine cocaine and Tequila, freeze it and package it as Mexican Bomb Pops.

Most people have a balancing factor, a little angel which sits on their other shoulder and acts as the Voice of Reason. Alas, in my case I have no angel. He was disposed sometime in my infancy by another Imp. This second Imp is a wheezing, debauched, wizened, one-eyed satyr, more wicked than his brother. He's older and more worldly, so his arguments are even more compelling. He says to just dip into savings and buy the son-of-a-bitch outright and quit fretting. You only live once. And if you stuck with these lessons for a year, he says, you know you're in in for the long haul--not like the time you tried Ballroom dancing, fencing, archery and ballet (and the least said about the latter, the better).

So as I stand literally balanced on the horns of this dilemma, I'll be whittling away the last remnants of 2010 listening to these two little devils urging me toward artistic gratification and financial ruin. Better than watching Fox News I guess.