Great Story but does it take this much space to tell it???

[noblt@xxxxxxxxxxxxx]

Date: Thu, 6 Feb 2003 22:13:51 EST
From: Wow71@xxxxxxx
Subject: A Great True Story--No Harp Content


In a message dated 2/6/03 5:30:27 PM Pacific Standard Time,
POPPINZ2 writes:


> A True Story (worth reading)=20
>            =20
> At the prodding of my friends, I am writing this story.  My name
is
Mildre=
d=20
> Hondorf. I am a former elementary school music teacher from Des
Moines,=20
> Iowa. I've always supplemented my income by teaching piano=20
> lessons--something I've done for over 30 years.
>=20
>=20
>  Over the years I found that children have many levels of
musical
ability.=
 =20
> I've never had the pleasure of having a prot=E9g=E9e, though I
have
taught=
 some=20
> talented students.  However I've also had my share of what I
call=20
> "musically challenged" pupils. One such student was Robby.
Robby was
11=20
> years old when his mother (a single mom) dropped him off for his
first=20
> piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially boys!) begin at
an
earlie=
r=20
> age, which I explained to Robby. But Robby   said that it had
always
been=20
> his mother's dream to hear him play the piano.
>=20
> So I took him as a student.  Well, Robby began with his piano
lessons
and=20
> from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor.  As
much as
Robby=
=20
> tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to
excel.
But=20
> he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary pieces that
I
require=
=20
> all my students to learn. Over the months he tried and tried
while I=20
> listened and cringed and tried to encourage him.  At the end of
each
weekl=
y=20
> lesson he would always say, "My Mom's going to hear me play some
day."
But=
=20
> it seemed hopeless. He just did not have any inborn ability. I
only
knew=20
> his mother from a distance as she dropped         Robby off or
waited
in=20
> her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled but
never came
in=
.
>=20
>       =20
> Then one day Robby stopped coming to our lessons. I thought
about
calling=20
> him but assumed, because of his lack of ability, that he had
decided to=20
> pursue something else. I also was glad that he stopped coming.
He was
a=20
> bad advertisement for my teaching!
>=20
>            =20
> Several weeks later I mailed to the student's homes a flyer on
the
upcomin=
g=20
> recital. To my surprise Robby (who received a flyer) asked me if
he
could=20
> be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current
pupils
and=20
> because he had dropped out he really did not qualify.  He said
that his
Mo=
m=20
> had been sick and unable to take him to piano lessons, but he
was still=20
> practicing.  "Miss Hondorf...I've just got to play!" he
insisted. =20
>=20
>         =20
> I don't know what led me to allow him to play in the recital.
Maybe it
wa=
s=20
> his persistence or maybe it was something inside of me saying
that it
woul=
d=20
> be alright. The night for the recital came.  The high school
gymnasium
was=
=20
> packed with parents, friends and relatives.  I put Robby up last
in the=20
> program before I was to come up and thank all the students and
play a=20
> finishing piece. I thought that any damage he would do would
come at
the=20
> end of the program and I could always salvage his poor
performance
through=
=20
> my "curtain closer."
>=20
> Well the recital went off without a hitch. The students had been

practicin=
g=20
> and it showed.  Then Robby came up on stage.  His clothes were
wrinkled
an=
d=20
> his hair looked like he'd run an egg-beater through it.  "Why
didn't he=20
> dress up like the other students?"  I thought.  "Why didn't his
mother
at=20
> least make him comb his hair for this special night?"
>=20
> Robby pulled out the piano bench and he began. I was surprised
when he=20
> announced that he had chosen Mozart's Concerto # 1 in C Major.
I was
not=20
> prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light on the
keys,
they=20
> even danced nimbly on the ivories. He went from pianissimo to
fortissimo..=
.=20
> from allegro to virtuoso. His suspended chords that Mozart
demands were=20
> magnificent!
>=20
> Never had I heard Mozart played so well by people his age. After
six and
a=
=20
> half minutes, he ended in a grand crescendo and everyone was on
their
feet=
=20
> in wild applause.
>=20
>           =20
> Overcome and in tears I ran up on stage and put my arms around
Robby in=20
> joy.  "I've never heard you play like that Robby!  How'd you do
it?"
>=20
> Through the microphone Robby explained: "Well Miss
Hondorf...remember I=20
> told you my mom was sick?  Well actually she had cancer and
passed away=20
> this morning. And well...she was born deaf so tonight was the
first
time=20
> she ever heard me play.  I wanted to make it special."
>=20
>            =20
> There wasn't a dry eye in the house that evening.  As the people
from=20
> Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed into
foster care,
I=20
> noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought to
myself
ho=
w=20
> much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil.
>=20
> No, I've never had a prot=E9g=E9e but that night I became a
prot=E9g=E9e..=
.of=20
> Robby's.  He was the teacher and I was the pupil. For it is he
that
taught=
=20
> me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in
yourself and
mayb=
e=20
> even taking a chance in someone and you don't know why.
>=20
>            =20
> This is especially meaningful to me since after serving in
Desert
Storm,=20
> Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P.
Murrah
Federal=20
> Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995, where he was
reportedly
playin=
g=20
> the piano.
>=20
> And now, a footnote to the story. If you are thinking about
forwarding
thi=
s=20
> message, you are probably thinking about which people on your
address
list=
=20
> aren't the "appropriate" ones to receive this type of message.
The
person=20
> who sent this to you believes that we can all make a difference.
We all=20
> have thousands of opportunities a day to help realize God's
plan. So
many=20
> seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us
with a
choice=
:=20
> Do we pass along a spark of the Divine?  Or do we pass up
that=20
> opportunity...you decide!
>=20
>=20
>=20
>=20







A True Story (worth reading)=20
           =20
At the prodding of my friends, I am writing this story.  My name
is
Mildred=20=
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.

=20
 Over the years I found that children have many levels of musical
ability.
=20=
I've never had the pleasure of having a prot=E9g=E9e, though I
have taught
s=
ome talented students.  However I've also had my share of what I
call
"music=
ally 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.=20=
I prefer that students (especially boys!) begin at an earlier age,
which I
e=
xplained to Robby. But Robby   said that it had always been his
mother's
dre=
am to hear him play the piano.

So I took him as a student.  Well, Robby began with his piano
lessons and
fr=
om the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor.  As much as
Robby
tri=
ed, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to excel.
But he
du=
tifully 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=20=
cringed and tried to encourage him.  At the end of each weekly
lesson he
wou=
ld always say, "My Mom's going to hear me play some day." But it
seemed
hope=
less. 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 came in.

      =20
Then one day Robby stopped coming to our lessons. I thought about
calling
hi=
m 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
adver=
tisement for my teaching!

           =20
Several weeks later I mailed to the student's homes a flyer on the

upcoming=20=
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
beca=
use he had dropped out he really did not qualify.  He said that
his Mom
had=20=
been sick and unable to take him to piano lessons, but he was
still
practici=
ng.  "Miss Hondorf...I've just got to play!" he insisted. =20

        =20
I don't know what led me to allow him to play in the recital.
Maybe it
was=20=
his persistence or maybe it was something inside of me saying that
it
would=20=
be alright. The night for the recital came.  The high school
gymnasium was
p=
acked with parents, friends and relatives.  I put Robby up last in
the
progr=
am before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a
finishing
p=
iece. I thought that any damage he would do would come at the end
of the
pro=
gram and I could always salvage his poor performance through my
"curtain
clo=
ser."

Well the recital went off without a hitch. The students had been
practicing=20=
and it showed.  Then Robby came up on stage.  His clothes were
wrinkled
and=20=
his hair looked like he'd run an egg-beater through it.  "Why
didn't he
dres=
s up like the other students?"  I thought.  "Why didn't his mother
at
least=20=
make him comb his hair for this special night?"

Robby pulled out the piano bench and he began. I was surprised
when he
annou=
nced that he had chosen Mozart's Concerto # 1 in C Major.  I was
not
prepare=
d for what I heard next. His fingers were light on the keys, they
even
dance=
d nimbly on the ivories. He went from pianissimo to fortissimo...
from
alleg=
ro 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
h=
alf minutes, he ended in a grand crescendo and everyone was on
their feet
in=
 wild applause.

          =20
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
mor=
ning. And well...she was born deaf so tonight was the first time
she ever
he=
ard me play.  I wanted to make it special."

           =20
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=20=
that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought to myself
how much
ric=
her my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil.

No, I've never had a prot=E9g=E9e but that night I became a
prot=E9g=E9e...o=
f Robby's.  He was the teacher and I was the pupil. For it is he
that
taught=
 me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself
and
maybe=
 even taking a chance in someone and you don't know why.

           =20
This is especially meaningful to me since after serving in Desert
Storm,
Rob=
by was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah
Federal
Build=
ing in Oklahoma City in April of 1995, where he was reportedly
playing the
p=
iano.

And now, a footnote to the story. If you are thinking about
forwarding
this=20=
message, you are probably thinking about which people on your
address list
a=
ren'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. We
all have
th=
ousands of opportunities a day to help realize God's plan. So many

seemingly=
 trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice:
Do we
pas=
s along a spark of the Divine?  Or do we pass up that
opportunity...you
deci=
de!





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