November 25, 1998

Dietland's life moves in harmony

By Garret Leiva
Herald staff writer
     
      These days, life seems perfectly in tune for Tim Dietland. His work, his family and life on the rolling acres know as "Bo Bo's Farm" in Elk Rapids all strike a melodic chord.
      Finding that harmony, however, has not come without major key changes.
      Four years ago the family decided to leave bustling Chicago for a simpler life in northern Michigan. For Dietland, a professional piano tuner, that meant flying back and forth to Chicago every other week to keep up his well established clientele base. It also meant overcoming the obstacles of an airplane commute, finding clients in Michigan, learning to live on a farm, raising three children and starting up a boarding kennel on the side.
      But Dietland, who was born with retinitis pigmentosa (RP) - a degenerative disease that has left him legally blind- is used to overcoming the odds. Even resurrecting cognac stained piano strings at the Four Seasons Hotel.
      "Philosophically, I approach all pianos whether they are the smallest, junkiest thing to the oldest upright, or the newest Steinway with my best effort," said Dietland, who became interested in piano tuning while taking a course during his studies as a piano major at Moody Bible Institute in Chicago.
      While apprenticing under a master technician, Dietland learned the techniques and tools required for successful tuning. After a year and a half of tutelage, he began establishing a clientele that 20 years later includes DePaul University, the Four Seasons Hotel, recording studios, jazz clubs, symphonies and private individuals. Locally, the piano tuner works with the Traverse City Area Public Schools, Northwestern Michigan College and the Interlochen Arts Academy.
      While most pianos he works on are kept in proper condition, Dietland does deal with some sticky situations from time to time. Such as when a glass of cognac was spilled on the bass strings of the piano in the lobby of the Four Seasons Hotel in Chicago. Or other commercial accounts where the ivories are more than tickled.
      "It's like the old adage: You walk into a bar and the guy goes, 'What do you mean tune it? We just had it painted,'" Dietland said with a wry grin.
      Much like building a client base, tuning a piano requires both patience and precision. Using an "old fashion" tuning fork, Dietland turns the variables of metal and cold steel wire string into a sweet sounding constant. The work is a balancing act of keeping 400,000 pounds of wire tension equally distributed while working in ratchet turns of a fraction of an inch.
      While this process would frustrate many people, Dietland has learned to deal with adversity; both on a small and large scale. Inheriting the RP gene from his grandfather, Dietland began experiencing night blindness by age 8. Despite suffering from tunnel vision, a 16-year-old Dietland was able to earn a driver's license and continued to drive in Chicago until his vision forced him off the road.
      "I kiddingly tell people that society is not ready for this final driving picture of me taking my little sports car up to these homes on the north side of Chicago, parking my car and getting my white cane out and taping up to the front door," he said.
      Today, Dietland gets around town - and the big city - with the guidance of his two-year-old German shepherd, Mischa. While just one of the dogs when on the farm, Dietland said the guide dog knows when it's time to go to work.
      "The minute we get to the airport and I put the harness on him he knows that for the next four days he has to work. During that time he doesn't bark. He's totally professional," said Dietland, who noted that Mischa's father, Orthos is the top national police dog in the United States.
      When the pair is back on the farm, however, the business of the big city is put behind. Out in the backyard, Mischa chases sticks with the family's other German shepherd and two black Labrador retrievers. Inside, Dietland runs his fingers over the keys of a 1925 Steinway that sits alongside a 1918 version on the hardwood floor living room. The Dietland's three children, Grete, Garth and Inga have the day off from school. Mom, Patty, is home as well and has just finished with the family's breakfast.
      These are the times that Tim Dietland calls, "living within the boundaries of a simple life." It is a life - even when not perfectly in tune - in which he finds fulfillment.
      "Living like this slows you down and makes you realize what is really important," he noted. "The last 10 years I've had to give up using my eyesight but I'm very comfortable and at peace at not being able to see -if I need help, I just ask."