Well, sixty years ago when I was a kid, player pianos were dead as door
nails.  You had to hire a junk man to haul them away.  That's when I
fell in love with my grandfather's dinosaur.

Maybe there will be a new generation of kids who finally get bored with
their i-whatevers and find themselves in love with their grandparent's
or grandfriend's player pianos.  Maybe.

What to do with them until the oceans rise?  I've seen too many player
pianos limping along or just plain dead in museums; so I've decided to
gamble against the trash man (and the ocean).  I've willed mine to an
AMICAn, younger than me (he doesn't know who he is), who I am certain
will find the right person for them.

Tockhwock