Fw: Piano lessons

This came in in 'Rich Text' with one part or two words per line. Thankfully my
slow and weak machine automatically changed it to 'Plain Text' when I called
for a 'Forward'. I guess it decided if the change was going to be done, it might
as well get into the game. Bob

----- Original Message -----
From: "Jim Solomon" <jim.solomon@shieldintl.net>
Sent: Wednesday, April 29, 2020 1:42 PM
Subject: Fwd: Piano lessons

Piano lessons

TRUE STORY...PLEASE DO NOT DELETE,RETURN IF YOU CAN'T
FORWARD TO AT LEAST ONE PERSON!!!

At the prodding of my friends I am writing this story. My name is Mildred
Honor. I am a former elementary school music teacher from Des Moines, Iowa.
I have always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons... something
I have done for over 30 years. During those years, I found that children have
many levels of musical ability, and even though I have never had the 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.
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 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 that his 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 surprised when 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 on stage 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 Robby explained: '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 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. Murrah
Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April, 1995.

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 us with a choice..
Do we act with compassion or do we pass up that opportunity.

You now have two choices:
1. Delete this; OR
2. Forward it to the people you care about. You know the choice I made.
Thank you for reading this... !! May God bless you today, tomorrow and always.

If God didn't have a purpose for us, we wouldn't be here!
Live simply.
Love generously.
Care deeply.
Speak kindly.
Leave the rest to God. In God We Trust Believe In Him
Death leaves a heartache no one can heal...
Love leaves a memory no one can steal.

Roger Reinhardt