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.
HOW DOES VICTORIA PRINCIPAL LOOK SO AMAZING AT 74? FIND OUT HERE
“Dallas,” the most successful primetime soap in TV history, is a show I hold dear. I could easily rewatch the entire series just to enjoy Victoria Principal’s performance.
Victoria Principal, known for her memorable role as Pamela Barnes Ewing, was one of the main reasons to watch “Dallas,” along with Larry Hagman, who played the infamous J.R. Ewing.
Now, at 74 years old, Victoria looks incredible. You’ll be amazed when you see her latest photos!
Victoria Principal, now 74, has had a diverse career as an actress, author, producer, and skincare business owner.
Her ability to succeed in many areas might be due to her childhood, which required her to adapt to different places.
Victoria was born on January 3, 1950, in Japan. Her father, a U.S. Air Force Sergeant, was stationed in Fukuoka, so Victoria spent her early months there.
As a child, Victoria and her mother moved frequently due to her father’s job. They lived in England, Puerto Rico, Massachusetts, Florida, and other places.
Victoria Principal attended 17 different schools during her childhood, including the famous Royal Ballet School in England.
Her childhood experiences are a bit mixed. According to the Daily Mail, Victoria and her mother, Ree Principal, had a complicated relationship, and Victoria described her childhood as unhappy in a 2009 report. In a 2012 interview with the Huffington Post, Victoria said she wished she had known earlier that her childhood would eventually end.
However, Victoria has also said, “I was very lucky. My parents raised me in such a way that it never occurred to me that I wasn’t equal.”
Victoria Principal began working early, landing her first job in a TV commercial at just 5 years old.
In 1968, she enrolled at Miami-Dade Community College, planning to become a doctor. However, her path changed dramatically after a serious car accident just months before finishing her first year. The crash forced her to spend months in recovery, and she had to repeat her first year of college.
Deciding to change direction, Victoria moved to New York City to pursue acting. After working as an actress and model in New York and Europe, she moved to Los Angeles in 1971 to chase major film roles. She eventually landed a role in the film “The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean,” playing the mistress of the main character, portrayed by Paul Newman.
Victoria Principal showed she had talent early on, earning a Golden Globe nomination for best newcomer. Her rising fame meant she started getting invited to more parties, but she soon realized that many people were more interested in her fame than in being genuine friends.
After her role in “The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean,” Victoria had a hard time finding satisfying roles. Her next film, “The Naked Ape,” didn’t do well, which really affected her confidence.
Victoria Principal wanted to be successful to protect herself from getting hurt. She became very cautious and guarded.
In 1974, she starred in the hit disaster film “Earthquake,” which did really well at the box office. However, while filming “Vigilante Force” in 1975, Victoria felt overwhelmed and collapsed under the pressure of maintaining a perfect image. She admitted that she was so unhappy that she didn’t want to continue living.
Victoria decided to step away from acting and study law. Between 1975 and 1977, she worked as a talent agent, which gave her relief from the constant focus on her looks and body. As an agent, she was valued for her skills and personality.
While working as an agent, Victoria came across the script for the TV series “Dallas.” She was intrigued and knew she wanted the role. She called the casting director and, in a surprising twist, sent herself in for the audition.
Victoria ended up landing the role of Pamela Barnes Ewing, and it became a defining moment in her career.
Victoria Principal knew that “Dallas” was going to be a big success. She loved the show and the role of Pamela Barnes Ewing from the moment she read the script. She felt like she was meant to play that part.
Victoria used her knowledge of the industry to negotiate her own contract with CBS. This gave her the freedom to work on other projects while “Dallas” became a global hit. She was the only cast member who did commercials, acted in TV movies, and wrote books, all while maintaining control over her own image.
Victoria took charge of her career and made sure that no one else controlled her.
In 1978, the TV show *Dallas* premiered and quickly became one of the most popular TV dramas ever. It was so popular that it’s hard for younger people today to grasp just how big of a deal it was worldwide.
The show focused on the Ewings, a rich Texas family involved in oil and cattle ranching.
Victoria Principal, who was 28 when the show started, played a big part in its success. As Pamela Barnes Ewing, the gorgeous wife of Bobby Ewing and sister-in-law to JR Ewing, she became a major crush for many fans of that generation.
During her nine years on *Dallas*, Victoria Principal was nominated for a Golden Globe and two Soap Opera Digest Awards.
Recently, she has shared stories from her time on the show and talked about working with Larry Hagman, who played the iconic character JR Ewing.
Victoria mentioned that working with Larry was always enjoyable. He was a generous actor who would discuss how to make their scenes even better before filming them.
Victoria Principal wasn’t very close with her *Dallas* castmates.
She explained that while they did talk on the phone, they didn’t often hang out together. They had different lives: Patrick, Steve, Larry, and Linda were all married with children, while Victoria was single. Their lifestyles were just too different.
Victoria left *Dallas* in 1987 for a few reasons. She felt that staying on the show longer would make it hard for her to be seen as more than just her character, Pam Ewing. She wanted to avoid being typecast and to explore other opportunities.
Victoria Principal, now 71, has always been in the spotlight, but she’s also made a name for herself off-screen. After marrying plastic surgeon Dr. Harry Glassman, rumors suggested he might have helped her maintain her youthful appearance. However, in a 2007 interview, Victoria denied using any of his services for cosmetic procedures. She stated, “I’ve never had a face-lift. Or a professional peel or lasers.”
Victoria and Dr. Glassman divorced in December 2006 after being together for over 20 years. While she doesn’t have biological children, she grew close with Dr. Glassman’s children from a previous relationship, Andrew and Brooke.
These days, Victoria stays active on social media and spends much of her time on her ranch near Los Angeles, where she focuses on rehabilitating animals. Seeing her happy and thriving brings tears of joy to many of her fans!
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