My Pathetic Passion
I should apologize…
My heart is pounding in my chest as I wait for the right moment. Finally I hear my cue:
“Let’s bow our heads and pray…”
I give them a few seconds to close their eyes and then slowly get up. Although I’ve been clutching it for the past 30 minutes and can see my sweaty fingerprints on it, the metallic surface still feels cool to the touch.
I’m up now and slowly, soundlessly tiptoe to the front of the church. I notice one or two heads turning — the ones who didn’t close their eyes. Damn it.., but they remain silent.
The Pastor’s eyes are closed and he doesn’t see me coming. My old teacher’s face briefly flashes in front of me. For a moment I consider turning back, I still can without changing everything, forever, but the memory of her rejection burns in my mind.
This is the day I am going to do something about it.
It’s quiet apart from the Pastor’s praying, and despite shaking now with anxiety, I slide onto the piano bench and wait for him to finish. His reflection on the piano lid is distracting…
I ignore the congregation behind me. I don’t care who sees me now. Too late to stop me. Let them prepare for what’s coming. I’m already thinking of them as not existing…
I can tell he’s is nearing the end of his prayer and I break out in cold sweat. Careful not to make my presence known I slowly put the iPad on the piano bookstand. A barrier between me and him.
“In the Name of our Lord, Jesus Christ, Amen…”
Then he sees me and I recognize the surprise on his face to see me eight feet away from him. Our eyes lock. I’m not showing any emotion, in fact I suddenly feel a cold calmness.
The thing now has to be done.
I can see he hesitates a little and his voice sounds different:
“Our closing Hymn today will be ‘Jesus Paid it All’.”
“First verse only…”
By the time the congregation is standing, I have both hands free.
A loud, horrible sound tears through the Church.
It’s louder than I thought it would be, and I notice the shock on their staring faces.
I’ve struck a dissonant chord…
It may sound like boasting, but I have a few things in common with Mozart. Yes, Wolfgang Amadeus. We were both passionate about the piano from an early age which remained unchanged even as we grew older. His father was his first teacher and took the prodigy on European tours, while my first teacher was a passive-aggressive woman who told me she was going on a little vacation and would let me know when she returned. When I saw her back in town three weeks later, my mother told me she did call, but to recommend I drop piano-playing…
This of course was not the last heartless rejection of my life, but the one I remember best. The one that hurt most. Despite the disappointment, I continued to practice the piano, listen exclusively to piano music, and as soon as I started earning a salary, bought a piano.
Regrettably my family also grew unsupportive of my music very early, and after we got married, my wife developed an irritating habit to vacuum the carpet around the piano whenever I started playing. I must admit it became a handy way to get the kids to play outside, but interestingly though, the dog and two cats never seemed to mind my playing. That, however, is beside the point.
Twenty years later I was still playing — or whatever you want to call it — when one day in church the Pastor announced the accompanist’s resignation.
“Any of you able to help out?”
A guitar-playing elder offered to accompany the congregation for the opening hymn and, not someone who dodges challenges, I offered to play the closing hymn.
Good thing I there and then looked up the hymn he chose. Of course it would be one with more flats than an ISIS pickup truck in Baghdad.
“That one’s too difficult.”
I showed him one in C-major — mostly white notes. He looked worried:
“OK then, and we’ll do the first verse only…”
Rest of the week I practiced this hymn while my wife vacuumed a foot-path around the piano and the kids all got sun-burnt.
I downloaded the hymn on my iPad so I wouldn’t have to fool with a hymn book refusing to stay open in the same place, and warmed up a little before going to church.
It was Sunday morning and I was ready.
I try again.
This time it sounds like I’ve landed more or less on the right notes, and I do the first line as an introduction. Not perfect, but when I start again, I hear the congregation starting 2 bars behind me, following at a safe distance.
Close to me however, in the front row, I hear two ladies trying to catch up with me. I’m already at an unsafe speed and I can hear them right by my side. They gleefully grab the notes I miss and pass it on to the rest of the congregation who is now about 3 bars behind, stampeding down the first line while I fight the two busybodies.
I fight them like this all through the second line. Half-way into the third line the melody changes to a different key (I guess) because there is an F-sharp standing in my way. The thick lines I drew around it (with the Apple Pencil) reminds me to be on the lookout, but has unfortunately obscured its neighbors. I manage to hit the F-sharp, but mess up the neighbors which results in a weird sound. Not completely dissonant but one of those cords that makes you want to hear something pure and sweet after it. Well that never happens, but with great satisfaction I hear how it sideswipes the two know-alls: losing their hold and they’re off into the long grass next tot the rails I’m tentatively following at this stage.
Gratified I notice how all they can do now is watch the congregation storm past them, down the third line, and onto the fourth line. On my heels.
The end is in sight.
I know I have difficulty with the last bar, so I take a few shortcuts to increase my lead and close to the end, I’m 2 bars ahead again. I miss the last chord, but because the congregation is somewhat behind me, I reckon there’s time to make a quick u-turn and do it again. They were closer than I thought and the herd overruns me before I can reach for the final chord...
They hit me hard. This time it doesn’t matter what sound I make on the piano, it is drowned in the cacophony. The few who stayed on the rails appear to have done so accidentally, the rest are all over the place. Sounds like some didn’t even try to sing, just spoke the words… The sound slowly dies down and there is a period of silence.
This service is over.
“Brothers, Sisters? Let’s pray.”
Earl Snodgrass was diagnosed with a serious medical condition the week before and the Pastor usually uses this last prayer to address serious issues like this. Kind of a way to send the congregation off with the issue fresh on their minds. Of course he prayed for Uncle Earl. After he prayed for a new accompanist.
There are two situations where you should seriously consider quitting. It’s the right thing to do:
- You have eagerly taken on something that is clearly detrimental to you or those around you:
One time I wanted to self-publish my Church’s Photo-book through Amazon’s “Kindle Direct Publishing”. After three terrible weeks of adjusting the layouts, the “bleed” size of the pages, the position of the photos, removing printer’s marks, even resizing the pages every 72 hours, I realized that I would never succeed and was becoming a frustrated, angry person. So I contacted them to delete the file, close the account and to accept my “Thank You” which I correctly spelled with a capital “F” and “Y”. Quitting was the right thing to do.
2. The slow, sad spiral into hopelessness, hoping for a breakthrough that never comes.
I spent months and years in jobs I knew I did not have the aptitude for but nevertheless tried my best hoping that one morning I would wake up and receive that breakthrough which never came. Those are also instances where you have to stop. Call it quits, you are wasting your time and destroying your self-respect: feel like a loser temporarily and then move on to something you can actually do. That’s the right thing to do.
Then there is the one situation where it is wrong to quit:
I once worked with a surgeon who was technically severely challenged. I would say on par with my piano-playing ability. But what was so wonderful about this lady, is that she knew it and did very few procedures — and then with all the help and backup she knew was necessary. But she remained in the field and focused on research, establishing new protocols, evidence based guidelines and in the end saved more lives indirectly and did far more for the profession than she ever could doing procedures herself. It would have been a tragedy if she quit and she deserves the respect and accolades she receive for her accomplishments.
On that Sunday morning, I demonstrated what it was to be “normal”. To not have any special ability and when the new accompanist arrived, I noticed how her talent was appreciated, savored — celebrated. People like me are needed to create the necessary awe one should hold people in who have a special talent.
There are more reasons, like the fact that because of my piano passion I raise kids who know and like classical music and might make it possible for piano players to make a living doing that. Who knows?
There is however, one reason — probably the most important — which I know is true and why me and you should not quit these passions we are no good at:
Some call it dabbling, but me and you?
We call it Great Fun!
