Story

[rainbow]

Hi Guys

 

I received this story in a email this morney, from another group I belong to.

 

Has a soft hearted guy, you can image what this little story did to me. It tore at my hearts and I cried my eyes out

 

I hope you will enjoy it to.

 

Rainbow.

 

True Story -- Worth Reading!!!

 

 

 

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 prodigy 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 someday." 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 mother 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'd 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, 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 prodigy but that night I became a prodigy. . . of 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.

 

Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995. 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. 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 and leave the world a bit colder in the process?

 

 

You have two choices now:

 

1. Delete this.

 

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

 

 

 

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[DomLuka]

It's a sweet story that makes you think, but it's so sad I hope that it's not really true

[ethan thorn]

Wow thats....i dont know what to but sad.

[Aleric]

It's a sweet story that makes you think, but it's so sad I hope that it's not really true 

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

 

Its not true. Enough proof for that is the fact

that it is untastefully set up as a chain-letter.

That makes no sense, therefore it is clear that

THAT is the main objective. Some people just

like to write chain letters and do anything to get

them to go around the world a few times (and see

them back like graphity on the walls).

 

Another reason to see that it can't be true is

simply because besides that it is very sad, it is

extermely unlikely: the kid was HOPELESS.

Then how can he ever, suddenly, self-taught, play

mozard like some wonder-child? And then the

mother is deaf?! Do you really think that she'd have

taken a kid for lessons without ever speaking a

single word to the mother? Pure bullshit.

 

Still a nice story though

[Crackerwriter]

And I hate to say this, but there's another story version just like it, except that it's about a kid who never gets picked for his baseball team. I read it about two years ago.

 

The boy goes to practice every week, but never gets picked for the team. Nevertheless he and his father attend every game, every week. However one week he begs the coach to let him play. Against his better judgement the coach agrees and of course the boy has a brilliant game and the team win.

After, the coach asks him why he never played like that before.

The boy explains that although his father always came to the matches, he never saw the game because he was blind. During the week he died, and so this game was the first he ever saw the team and his son play.

 

Sorry to put a downer on this Rainbow, but you can see the similarity I'm sure.

 

If I can find it, I'll post the original to you.