Robby’s Night True Story Worth Reading

Doc
It's is a good story, whether fiction or not. I heard the football version a couple of years ago, and that made me feel as good as this one.

Q,
Your penance will be that you trade your boat for a Moomba for one month.

Steve

Qinner, no punishment needed nor deserved.It is just the world some of us live in,been there done that.
Today I try to live a little slower and look at Life a little differently than I did.Kinda like " I am giving you a second chance Billy . Please dont screw this one up too."
Youth is wasted on the young and wisdom on the old.
It was a moving story , true or not................Boat dr

JBear,

Damn, too much BS on the net and email is what I was trying to say, HW said what I should have, great story, great message!

Alright, what's my punishment, no skiing for a week? Heck, I have only had a couple runs so far this year, but they were both without ski's!

Well for what it is worth >>>>>>>>>
I still believe in the Easter Bunny,Santa and the Tooth Fairy.........
Would also tend to believe there is a God and there is some good left in my fellow Man.
Snopes will say that is untrue also,But I still believe............Billy

Usually if it says "true story" it's not, but it is a nice story with a positive message.

I read this and was moved to share with all my friends here. Some may delete and some may see fit to share with others as I did.
This site has become a very large part of Karen and my life .Thanx to Keith and his hard work, I have brothers and sisters all over the world. We share a common , these old boats,and a love that goes beyond anything Keith ever thought it would be.
What a wonderful tool we have at our fingertips........Hope this moves you as it did me .....
If not just hit the delete key, Make a difference "MAKE A STAND " Lead do not Follow
                 Billy/Karen




Robby's Night



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 t he 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 s ome 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 per formance 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 u p 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.

*********
If God didn't have a purpose for us, we wouldn't be here!