For all my friends and family who know I normaly don't forward messages .
with the little time I have to use this thing I feel I would rather talk
abouth something closer to us as friends and family but then there is that
time when I feel the need to share something that touch my heart and thanks
to my buddy hugh who always sends me the greatest things , I want to share
with you.
Sandra
----- Original Message -----
From: "hugh" <hmassey(a)jps.net>
To: <rmomba(a)aol.com>; <EatonKardux(a)triton.net>; <rmorrow44(a)hotmail.com>
Sent: Monday, July 09, 2001 3:19 PM
At the prodding of my friends, I am writing this story. My name is Mildred
Hondorf. I am a former elementary school music teacher from Des Moines,
Iowa. I've always supplemented my income by teaching piano
lessons-something I've done for over 30 years. Over the years I found that
children have many levels of musical ability. I've never had the pleasure
of having a protégé though I have taught some talented students. However
I've also had my share of what I call "musically challenged" pupils. One
such student was 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 with 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 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'd always say, "My
mom's going to hear me play some day." But 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 stopped in. Then one day Robby stopped coming to
our lessons. I thought about calling him but assumed, because of his lack
of ability, that he had decided to pursue something else. I also was glad
that he stopped coming. He was a bad advertisement for my teaching!
Several weeks later I mailed to the student's homes a flyer on the upcoming
recital. To my surprise Robby (who received a flyer) asked me if he could
be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and
because he had dropped out he really did not qualify. He said that his mom
had been sick and unable to take him to piano lessons but he was still
practicing. "Miss Hondorf...I've just got to play!" he insisted. I
don't
know what led me to allow him to play in the recital. Maybe it was his
persistence or maybe it was something inside of me saying that it would be
all right.
The night for the recital came. The high school gymnasium was packed with
parents, friends and relatives. I put Robby up last in the program before
I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I
thought that any damage he would 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 stage. His clothes were
wrinkled and his hair looked like he' run an eggbeater through it. "Why
didn't he dress 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 he began. I was surprised when he
announced that he had chosen Mozart's Concerto #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
people 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've never heard you
play like that Robby! How'd you do it?"
Through the microphone Robby explained: "Well Miss Hondorf...remember I
told you my mom was sick? Well actually she had cancer and passed away
this morning. And well....she was born deaf so tonight was the first time
she ever heard me play. 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 into foster care, I noticed that even
their eyes were red and puffy and I thought to myself how much richer my
life had been for taking Robby as my pupil.
No, I've never had a protégé but that night I became a protégé...of
Robby's. He was the teacher and I was the pupil. For it was he that taught
me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself and maybe
even taking a chance on someone and you don't know why.
This is especially meaningful to me since after serving in Desert Storm
Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal
Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995, where he was
reportedly....playing the piano.
And now, a footnote to the story. If you are thinking about forwarding
this message, you are probably thinking about which people on your address
list aren't the "appropriate" ones to receive this type of message. We can
all make a difference. We have thousands of opportunities a day to help
realize God's plan.