Comment #5

truecritic — Wed, 27 Apr 2011 07:04:47 GMT

<br />http://www.snopes.com/glurge/music.asp

Comment #4

joker17 — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 19:59:25 GMT

You are all welcome. I thought you'd like it. So sad the kid passed....:(

Comment #3

TigerAngel — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 18:45:23 GMT

Wow!! Thanx for posting.

Comment #2

Tenaj — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 18:38:47 GMT

What a beautiful story.

Comment #1

sully16 — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 17:37:08 GMT

Beautiful story Joker, Thank you for sharing.

Original Blog Entry: Touching true story

joker17 — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 17:18:35 GMT

A friend of mine sent me this in an email today. Being a musician myself, it was touching to read.

At the prodding of my

friends I am writing this story. My name is Mildred Honor and I am a former

elementary school music teacher from

DesMoines , Iowa .

I have always

supplemented my income by teaching pianolessons - something I have done for over 30

years.

During those years I found that children have many levels of music

ability, and even though I have never had the pleasure of having a prodigy, I

have taught some very talented students.

However, I have also had my

share of what I call 'musically challenged' pupils - one such pupil being

Robby..

Robby was 11 years old when his mother (a single mom) dropped him

off for his first piano lesson.

I prefer that students (especially boys) begin at an earlier age, which I

explained to Robby. But Robby said that it had always been his mother's dream

to hear him play the piano, so I took him as a student.

Well, Robby began

his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor.

As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to

excel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary piano pieces

that I require all my students

to learn. Over the months he tried and tried

while I listened and cringed and tried to encourage

him.

At the end of

each weekly lesson he

would always say 'My mom's going to hear me play

someday'. But to me,it seemed hopeless, he just did not have any inborn

ability.

I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off

or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled, but never

dropped in.

Then one day Robby stopped coming for his

lessons. I

thought about calling him, but assumed that because of his lack of ability he

had decided to pursue something else. I was also glad that he had stopped coming

- he was a bad advertisement for my teaching!

Several weeks later I

mailed a flyer recital to the students' homes. To my surprise, Robby (who had

received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the

recital was for current pupils and that because he had dropped out, he really

did not

qualify.

He told me

thathis mother had

been sick and unable to take him to his piano lessons, but that he had been

practicing. 'Please Miss Honor, I've just got to play' he insisted. I don't know

what led me to allow him to play in the recital - perhaps it was his insistence

or maybe something inside of me saying that it would be all right.

The

night of the recital came and the high school gymnasium was packed with

parents, relatives and friends. I put Robby last in the program, just before I

was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought

that any damage he might do would come at the end of the program and I could

always salvage his poor performance through my 'curtain closer'.

Well,

the recital went off without a hitch, the students had been practicing and it

showed. Then Robby came up on the stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair

looked as though he had run an egg beater through it. 'Why wasn't he dressed up

like the other students?' I thought. 'Why didn't his mother at least make him

comb his hair for this special night?'

Robby pulled

out the piano bench, and I was surprisedwhen he announced that he had chosen to play Mozart's

Concerto No.

21 in C Major. I was not prepared for what I heard next. His

fingers were light on the keys, they even danced nimbly on the ivories. He

went from pianissimo to fortissimo, from allegro to virtuoso; his

suspended chords that Mozart demands were magnificent! Never had I heard

Mozart played so well by anyone his

age.

After six and a half

minutes he ended in a grand crescendo, and everyone was on their feet in wild

applause! Overcome and in tears, I ran up onstage and put my arms around Robby

in joy. 'I have never heard you play like that Robby, how did you do

it?

Through the microphone

Robbyexplained: 'Well, Miss Honor .... remember

I told you that my mom was sick? Well, she actually had cancer and passed away

this morning. And well ...... she was born deaf, so tonight was the first time

she had ever heard me play, and I wanted to make it

special.'

There wasn't a dry eye

in the house that evening. As the people from Social Services led Robby from the

stage to be placed in to

foster care, I noticed that even their eyes were

red and puffy. I thought to myself then how much richer my life had been for

taking Robby as my pupil.

No, I have never had a prodigy, but that night

I became a prodigy ....... of Robby. He was the teacher and I was the pupil,

for he had taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in

yourself, and may be even taking a chance on someone and you didn't know

why.

Robby was killed years later in the senseless bombing of the Alfred

P. Murray Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April, 1995.

And now, a

footnote to the story. If you are thinking about forwarding this message, you

are probably wondering which people on your address list aren't the

'appropriate' ones to receive this type of message. The person who sent this

to you believes that we can all make a

difference!

So many

seemingly trivial interactions between two people present uswith a choice

Do we act with

compassion or do we pass up that opportunity and leave the world a bit colder in

the process?

... [ More ]