The music I played on my piano was my last link to my late husband. But cruel neighbors shattered that joy with a hurtful message on my wall. When my granddaughter found out, she made things right, leaving those entitled neighbors scratching their heads.
“Oh, Jerry, did you love it today, darling?” I asked softly, the last notes of “Clair de Lune” filling my cozy living room as my fingers lifted from the ivory piano keys. My eyes fixed on the framed photo of my late husband, Jerry. His kind eyes seemed to twinkle back at me, just as they had for over fifty years of our marriage…
Willie, my tabby cat, stretched lazily near my feet, purring contentedly. I reached down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the familiar ache in my chest as I carefully lifted Jerry’s photo.
“I miss you so much, darling. It’s been five years, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like yesterday.”
Pressing a gentle kiss to the cool glass, I whispered, “Time for dinner, my love. I’ll play your favorite before bed, okay? ‘Moon River,’ just like always.”
As I set the frame back down, I could almost hear Jerry’s warm chuckle. “You spoil me, Bessie,” he’d say, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
I shuffled towards the kitchen, pausing to look back at the piano, my constant companion these past 72 years.
“What would I do without you?” I murmured, running my hand along its polished surface.
That night, as I lay in bed, I whispered into the darkness, “Goodnight, Jerry. I’ll see you in my dreams.”
The next morning, I was lost in Chopin’s “Nocturne in E-flat major” when a sharp rap on my window startled me. My fingers stumbled, the music cutting off abruptly.
A red-faced man glared at me through the glass. He was my new neighbor.
“Hey, lady!” he shouted, his voice muffled. “Cut out that racket! You’re keeping the whole neighborhood awake with your pathetic plinking!”
I stared at him, shocked. “I… I’m so sorry,” I stammered, even as a small voice in my head protested. It was barely 11 a.m., and none of my other neighbors had ever complained before.
The man stomped away, leaving me trembling. I closed the lid of the piano, my sanctuary suddenly feeling tainted.
The next day, I closed all the windows before sitting down to play. The music felt muffled and constrained, but I hoped it would keep the peace.
I was barely ten minutes into Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” when my doorbell rang insistently. With a heavy heart, I answered it.
A woman with pinched features glared at me. “Listen here, old lady,” she spat. “The grave’s calling, and you’re still banging on that piano? Cut the noise, or I’ll report you to the HOA!”
It was only then that I understood she was my new neighbor’s wife.
I felt like I’d been slapped. “I… I closed all the windows,” I said weakly.
“Well, it’s not enough!” she snapped, turning on her heel. “Quit making noise with your stupid piano!”
I slumped against the door frame, tears welling in my eyes. “Oh, Jerry,” I whispered. “What do I do?”
I could almost hear his voice, gentle but firm. “You play, Bessie. You play your heart out. Don’t stop… for anyone.”
But as I sat at the piano, my fingers hovering over the keys, I couldn’t bring myself to press down.
Days passed, and I tried everything. I taped cardboard over the windows, played only in short bursts, even considered moving the piano to the basement where it might not be heard.
But nothing seemed to satisfy my new neighbors, the Grinches, as I’d started calling them in my head.
The thought of being separated from my cherished instrument, even by a flight of stairs, made my heart ache. This piano wasn’t just an object; it was an extension of my soul, a living connection to Jerry and our life together.
Forgetting about those bothersome neighbors for a moment, I lost myself in the music as I played the piano that night.
The next morning, I stepped outside to tend to my small herb garden. The sight that greeted me stopped me cold.
The cruel words “SHUT UP!” were spray-painted across the wall in angry red letters.
I sank to my knees and wept. “Jerry, I can’t do this anymore.”
That day, for the first time in decades, I didn’t touch my piano.
As night fell, I sat in Jerry’s armchair, clutching his photo. “I’m so sorry, my love. I just don’t have the strength to fight anymore.”
The shrill ring of the telephone startled me from my thoughts. I fumbled for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Mom? It’s me,” my son Jacob’s warm voice filled the line. “How are you doing?”
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “Oh, I’m fine, sweetie. Just a quiet day at home.”
There was a pause. “Mom, you don’t sound fine. Is everything alright?”
I sighed, debating whether to burden him with my troubles. “It’s nothing, really. Just… some issues with the new neighbors.”
“Issues? What kind of issues?”
I found myself spilling everything… the complaints, the threats, the vandalism.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, honey. I feel so… lost.”
“Oh, Mom, why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have helped.”
“I didn’t want to worry you. You have your own life, your own problems.”
“Mom, you’re never a burden. Never. Your music has brought joy to so many people over the years. Remember all those Christmas parties? The school recitals you played for? You’re not a nuisance… you’re a treasure.”
“Listen, I’m going to call Melissa. She’s closer. Maybe she can come check on you. And we’ll figure this out together, okay?” Jacob finished.
As I hung up the phone, I felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe I wasn’t alone in this after all.
Days crawled by. My piano sat untouched, gathering dust. I felt like a part of me was withering away.
One evening, a loud knock startled me from my melancholy. I opened the door to find my granddaughter Melissa standing there, her face glowing with a warm smile.
“Surprise, Nana!” she exclaimed, enveloping me in a tight hug.
As she pulled back, her eyes widened in horror. “Nana, who did this to your wall?”
I burst into tears, the whole story spilling out between sobs. Melissa’s expression darkened with each word.
“Oh, Nana,” she said softly, leading me to the couch. “How dare they do this to you? Did you report them?”
“I didn’t want to make a fuss. It’s just… it’s been so hard, sweetie. That piano, it’s all I have left of your grandpa.”
Melissa’s eyes filled with tears. “I know, Nana. We’ll fix this, I promise.”
“How?” I asked, feeling hopeless. “They hate my music. They hate me.”
Melissa took my hands in hers, her grip firm and reassuring. “They can shove their hatred up their butts, Nana. They don’t even know you. These entitled brats are about to learn what happens when you mess with the wrong pianist!”
The next day, Melissa was a whirlwind of activity. She made calls, ordered some supplies, and even enlisted the help of some neighbors I’d known for years.
“Nana, we’re going to teach those Grinches a lesson about respect.”
That evening, Melissa set up small speakers around the Grinches’ property, carefully hidden in the boxwood bushes under their windows.
When their car pulled into the driveway, she winked at me. “Show time, Nana!”
As soon as the Grinches disappeared inside, soft piano music began to play from the hidden speakers, barely audible at first. They rushed out, looking confused. Then suddenly, the music changed to a medley of barking dogs and car alarms.
I couldn’t help but giggle as I watched them run around, trying to find the source of the noise.
Melissa grinned triumphantly. “And now, for the grand finale,” she said, pressing a red button on a remote control-like device.
The air was filled with the most ridiculous assortment of fart sounds I’d ever heard. I doubled over with laughter, tears streaming down my face.
“Melissa!” I gasped between giggles. “You’re terrible!”
She hugged me tight. “Nobody messes with my Nana. Besides, a little harmless payback never hurt anyone.”
As we watched the Grinches frantically searching their yard, I was pleased. “Thank you, sweetheart,” I said softly. “For reminding me to stand up for myself.”
The next morning, a crew arrived at my house. To my amazement, they began converting my piano room into a state-of-the-art soundproof studio.
“Now you can play whenever you want, Nana,” Melissa said, squeezing my hand. “No one will ever tell you to stop again.”
As the workers finished up, I sat down at my newly polished piano. My fingers trembled as they touched the keys, but as soon as I began to play, it was like coming home.
The familiar strains of “Moon River” filled the air, and I closed my eyes, feeling Jerry’s presence all around me.
“That’s my girl,” I could almost hear him say. “Play on, Bessie. Play on.”
Melissa danced around the room, a glass of wine in hand. “You rock, Nana!” she cheered. “Grandpa would be so proud.”
As the last notes faded away, I turned to her with tears in my eyes. “Thank you, sweetheart. You’ve given me back my voice.”
“No, Nana,” Melissa said, kneeling beside me. “You’ve always had your voice. I just helped you remember how to use it.”
All too soon, it was time for Melissa to leave. As we stood in the driveway, waiting for her taxi, she handed me the remote control-like device.
“Just in case those Grinches act up again,” she winked. “One press, and it’s fart city. But I don’t think you’ll need it. The whole neighborhood’s got your back now, Nana!”
I hugged her tightly. “I love you so much, Melissa. Thank you for everything.”
“I love you too, Nana. Promise me you’ll keep playing, no matter what anyone says.”
“I promise,” I said, my voice strong and sure.
As I watched the taxi disappear down the street, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my son: “How are you doing, Mom? Melissa told me everything. I’m so proud of you. Love you. ”
I smiled, tears pricking my eyes as I typed back: “I’m doing better than I have in weeks. Thank you for being there for me. I love you too. ”
Turning back to my house, I could have sworn I saw Jerry standing near the piano, arms wide open, beckoning me to play.
I wiped away a stray tear of joy and walked inside, closing the door behind me. The piano was waiting, and this time, nothing would stop me from playing.
As my fingers touched the keys, I felt whole again. The music swelled, filling every corner of my home and my heart. And somewhere, I knew Jerry was listening, smiling, and dancing along.
“This one’s for you, my love,” I whispered, as the melody of our favorite song carried me away. “And for our family, who never gave up on me!”
The notes of “Moon River” floated through the air. As I played, I felt stronger than ever, surrounded by the love of those who mattered most, both here and beyond.
Paul Newman’s brutally honest words – he once confessed what he really thought of Robert Redford
Although the real-life outlaws Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid were close, actor Paul Newman admitted that he harbored some grudges against the young Robert Redford throughout the period of filming.
A true testament to their acting prowess, Redford as Harry Longabaugh, aka “Sundance Kid,” and Newman as Robert LeRoy Parker, aka “Butch Cassidy,” were convincing in their portrayals of the Wild West friends, notorious criminals who were eluding the law after a string of bank and train robberies.
The 1969 film, which was based on the actual outlaws, won four Oscars and is still regarded as one of the best Westerns ever produced. Four years later, in The Sting (1973), another caper movie starring two similarly attractive heartthrobs, the stars reunited.
Legends in their own right, Newman and Redford worked their magic when they were together. However, have you ever wondered how Hollywood’s A-listers get along away from the camera?When he was 44 years old, Newman, who portrayed Butch, admitted that he had been interested in the 33-year-old Redford’s 33-year-old character.
In a BBC Talking Pictures interview, Newman noted, “We have a lot of fun together, and we bounce off each other really well.” I would have wanted to play Sundance, he continued. With that cooled-out quality, I feel a little more at ease. It must be the simpler part, I suppose.
Redford was a budding star who won the Golden Globe for New Star of the Year in 1965 for his work with Natalie Wood in the movie Inside Daisy Clover.
After appearing in movies like Cool Hand Luke (1967) and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958) with Elizabeth Taylor, Newman had already achieved superstardom.
Redford was cast opposite Newman, who was winning acting and directing accolades, in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid after Steve McQueen turned down a role in the film. McQueen also declined parts in Dirty Harry, The French Connection, and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.
The two celebrities weren’t truly friends at the time, according to Newman’s memoir, “The Extraordinary Life of an Ordinary Man: A Memoir,” the BBC reports.
Newman said, “You can’t depend on Redford. You’re never sure he’s going to be there. That’s simply discourteous.”
Their differences in working styles, according to Newman’s youngest daughter Claire Newman Soderlund, whom he fathered with his second wife Joanne Woodward, may have contributed to their conflicts.
She said, “My father was very much a stickler for timeliness and Bob, that was never really his strength. It was hard work for dad. He worked very hard at it because he wanted to be good and he wanted to be successful and Bob was more of a free spirit.”
When Newman passed away from lung cancer in 2008, Redford, who is now 86, told ABC News that, “It was just that connection of playing those characters and the fun of it that really began the relationship,” he said, reflecting on Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. “And then once the film started, once we went forward, we then discovered other similarities that just multiplied over time, a common ground that we both had between us, interests and so forth, and differences.”
Newman and Redford looked into possibilities to collaborate on a third movie after portraying renowned outlaws and later thieves in The Sting, but it never materialized.
In Bill Bryson’s 1998 book of the same name, A Walk in the Woods, which was adapted into a 2015 movie, it almost happened. The plot of this buddy movie centers on two elderly guys who are out of shape and want to hike the challenging Appalachian Trail.
In 2005, Redford, who both appeared in and produced the movie, chose this script with his close friend Newman in mind.
In 2015, Redford said, “It started with Paul, because Paul and I had been looking for a third film to do together. A lot of time had gone by, and I just couldn’t find it. When I read this book… I thought of Paul right away.”
Redford, who was 79 at the time of the interview, claimed that he sent the book to Newman, who later cast Nick Nolte in the part because he wasn’t sure he could do it physically.
Since they initially worked together on Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, the relationship between Newman and Redford, two highly regarded performers, has significantly deepened. The performers, who lived in Connecticut just a mile apart and started to act like brothers, are also close with their families.
Speaking after his buddy died, Redford said, “We both got to know each other’s flaws pretty well. Of course, I outweighed him on that front. But knowing each other’s flaws, we just played them to the hilt and we’d try to trick each other. We’d try to surprise each other, and it was so damn much fun that it became like–it became like a scenario unto itself.”
He added, “Paul really likes to have fun and he loves to laugh and he really especially loves to laugh at his own jokes, and some of them are just really awful. So the fact that he enjoyed them so much, you forget about the joke and you’d start to laugh with him because you’re so caught up in his enjoyment of them.”
Paul Newman and Robert Redford had such a great chemistry! Let us know what you think of their on-screen friendship and real-life romance!
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