Paul McCloud's Attachment redone

[Richard Raskob]

List - Here is Paul's earlier attachment in an easier form to read.

Richard Raskob RPT



 Subject: True Story



   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
DeMoines, 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 protege 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 knew his mother only 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'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 all were 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 protege but that night I became a protege...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.

    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.

    The person who sent this to you believes that we can all make a
difference. We all have thousands 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 pass along a spark of the Divine? 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....