A friend has given me permission to share the following story which she originally sent to me back in 1989. At the time, she was learning how to play the harp and had been asked by friends to play at their wedding. In her words:
…there are moments in everyone’s life which are remembered as times of triumph and times of humility. July ___, 1989, at approximately 2:55 p.m. will be recalled as a time of triumph because I summoned the courage to stay in the church after “playing” (and I use that term loosely!) my harp… The gruesome details are as follows:
I arrived at the church on Saturday almost two full hours before the wedding would begin. The humidity was playing havoc with my harp’s tuning and consequently did little to settle my nerves. I decided to set up in the back of the church so I wouldn’t have to endure so many people staring at me. Actually, without the organ muffling the sound, the harp sounded better from the back of the church – more open space, I guess.
Anyway, as the minutes ticked by I attempted to keep my pacing to a minimum because the organist kept looking my way and giving me little half-smiles of sympathy… (could it be that she sensed the outcome of this endeavor?!?). By 2:45 the church was packed – standing room only! (400 capacity.). The organist finished playing her prelude and gave me a nod.
I instantly became two separate beings – one a coherent, yet desperate, would-be harpist who knew that not finishing a musical selection – no matter how poorly it is being played – is not polite —- the other being a frantic and suddenly reluctant harpist whose hands felt like baseball gloves and was trying to convince herself that all those wrong notes didn’t sound all that bad…
Time lost all meaning for me. The only thing that mattered was my desperate search for the right notes! It could have been 30 seconds or 30 minutes later when I finally came to the conclusion that enough was enough and put an end to my debut with a flurry of fragmented chords after playing portions of two selections out of the three I had practiced. Needless to say, my own personal death would have been a welcome intrusion into the festivities.
But being made of tougher stuff than was, no doubt, noticeable to the casual observer, I continued my stay at this, the wedding event of the century, from the relative security of the cloakroom. Later, in the receiving line, the bride and groom asked me where I had been and why hadn’t I played the harp…! It was then that I realized that the full church and my position in the back corner had allowed the sound to be carried only a short distance. I suspect only the few in the back pew knew the truth! At least this is the hope which I cling to!
Sigh…of course after I returned home that day I was able to play all three pieces without a note out of place… Life can sure be funny, even when we see nothing to laugh about.
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Thank you to my friend for letting me share her story on Tuesday True Stories and giving us all a good chuckle. I’ll admit that when I read that story to my children some 15 years ago, I was laughing so hard I couldn’t even get through it. Some of you may have your own stories of performances gone awry – feel free to share in the comments!
I’ll probably delete this in the morning and then go hide in the cloakroom.
Lynniebeemuseoday 
To the anonymous harpist, my heart goes out to you (and my stomach aches along with yours) at this occurrence. Your placement in the church saved the day and you proved to yourself anyway, that you
were quite capable of playing for this event, at least without the fear factor. I hope you were (are) able to continue to pursue continued study of the harp.
The only thing I dared to do was to play Mary Had a Little Lamb in Fourth Grade, because that was where my abilities were at that time. I played in front of my class at school and all the kids laughed at me. That was and is the end to my performances outside of teacher led assignments!
Good for you, Anonymous! You worked hard and tried your best!
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Agreed! I’ll pass that on to her. I still remember the first time the Honey Blondes performed at CHS. Everybody laughed at us, too! All the world’s a critic… 😆
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Well, it’s interesting how the lowlights of one’s life can become fodder for a good laugh. The perspective of years can allow you to be more forgiving toward yourself.
Although, I am not quite sure if the Bride and Groom ever forgave me…!
Fortunately for me any deserved wrath was detoured to the Wedding photographer who found out the following day that no photos whatsoever were actually taken that day because (remember this is the good ol’ days before digital) she neglected to remove the lens cap from the camera!! In all honesty, I can say it was better to be the hapless harpist rather than the hapless photographer….
And here is a “rest of the story” late addition: when I was finally packed up and leaving the Church, I had planned to sneak out a side exit. But a group of “Church ladies” were blocking my escape. It’s difficult to be inconspicuous while carrying a harp, and one of the ladies stopped me and gushed “it was beautiful, just beautiful!” I mumbled that I really didn’t think so… When a startled expression and frown appeared on her face, I suddenly realized that she was talking about the WEDDING, not my harp playing…yikes! I think I may have experienced a bit of PTSD because my enthusiasm for the harp faded away. Over the years I have tried other instruments (mandolin, fiddle) only to suffer less than stellar performance reviews which dimmed my motivation. But let’s end this on a positive note (pun intended..): I have been yearning to pick up my Banjo once again – whether anyone wants me to do so or not! A sure sign that you’re getting older: you stop caring what others might think about you. May it ever be thus!
– The Hapless Musician
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Ha ha! I love all the extra details, Teresa!! I still haven’t heard you play the banjo, so go for it!!
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