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What I know is getting me nowhere, but Who I know will get me somewhere.

~Stacy-Ann Hyde

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I hate everything that imposes itself on me, including learning.

~Stacy-Ann Hyde

Ray-Ray

Ray-Ray is eating the lady”! I shouted. One by one the workers ran toward the hole, each bearing a grin of some sort. Before they came I saw what looked like a snake and the face of a crocodile. I couldn’t believe what was happening.

I had managed to get separated from the group as we boarded the cruise ship that day and so decided to stop for a swim at the first pool on deck. I already had on my swim suit and so I took off my slippers and tossed them on the pile of other slippers I saw. Before I could go into the water I heard someone from the group calling my name. There goes the swim I thought to myself as I went to retrieve my slippers. No slippers. The pool attendant lifted every foot-wear from the pile of slippers but there was still no trace of my black and gold slippers.

I quickly moved barefooted toward the last place I had heard my name but saw no one. I walked up the stairs of the vessel until I got to a glass door which I opened. The room seemed to be a kitchen and several persons who appeared to be workers were standing around looking glum. One person smiled an indicated to me that this was not the place for visitors to pass through. I made my way back down the stairs and ran into an old lady. She seemed nice, almost too nice.

The nice old lady asked if I wanted to see Ray-Ray. I was like, “Who?” Before I could protest she excitedly grabbed my arm and said, “Ray-Ray”. We went down some wooden stairs and came upon an area that had dirt, trees and an overgrowth of bushes with one clear path leading down to a hole. “I want you to meet Ray-Ray”, the lady kept saying. She moved down the dirt track like a regular and kneeled by the hole which by now I noticed contained water of a pale brownish colour. She was attempting to use part of the root of a huge tree to reach over the hole, but it broke, leaving a short bit in her hand. “Grab that large root bit, and take it here”, she said to me, but I did not move.

“Ray”, she began to call. “Come here Ray-Ray”, as she waved the short bit of tree root which had broken off in her hand, over the hole. Suddenly I heard a splash and the lady was in the hole. I saw a long white snake like thing pulling her down as its smooth body moved quickly in the water. It had the face of a crocodile, also white looking but with a pale pink glow. I was numbed, frightened and began to scream hysterically.

I saw the group of workers from the kitchen running toward me with what appeared to be smiles on their faces. I must have passed out or something because when I opened my eyes I could see the familiar faces of the group I was trying to catch up with. I wondered to myself what really transpired and thought back to the last thing I could remember. The happy faces of the workers from the kitchen when the old lady had fallen into the hole. That creature must have been Ray-Ray. I wondered to myself if these workers were actually food for Ray-Ray and then I wondered if the lady had planned to feed me to Ray-Ray.

I raised my head ever so slightly to look at my feet and there were the missing gold and black slippers which I had taken off, to go for a swim. Was this all a dream. I definitely couldn’t tell anyone what happened. I desperately wanted to just go home, and almost as if they read my thoughts I heard it was time to go home. I was only too happy to jump ship as it were. We boarded our bus and as I looked back at the huge vessel I saw the workers smiling and waving goodbye. Their faces seemed so happy as if to say thank you.

 

 

A Story by Mildred Honor

WARNING: TEAR JERKER

At the prodding of my friends I am writing this story.

My name is Mildred Honor and I am a former elementary school
music teacher from Des Moines, Iowa . 

I have always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons – something I have done for over 30 years. During those years I found that children have many levels of musical ability, and even though I have never had the pleasure of having a prodigy, I have taught some very talented students. However, I have also had my share of what I call ‘musically challenged’ pupils – one such pupil being 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 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 piano 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 would always say ‘My mom’s going to hear me play someday’. But to me, 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 dropped in.

Then one day Robby stopped coming for his lessons. I thought about calling him, but assumed that because of his lack of ability he had decided to pursue something else. I was also glad that he had stopped coming – he was a bad advertisement for my teaching! 

Several weeks later I mailed a flyer recital to the students’ homes. To my surprise, Robby (who had received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and that because he had dropped out, he really did not qualify. He told me that his mother had been sick and unable to take him to his piano lessons, but that he had been practicing. ‘Please Miss Honor, I’ve just got to play’ he insisted. I don’t know what led me to allow him to play in the recital – perhaps it was his insistence or maybe something inside of me saying that it would be all right. 

The night of the recital came and the high school gymnasium was packed with parents, relatives and friends. I put Robby last in the program, just before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any damage he might 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 the stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked as though he had run an egg beater through it. ‘Why wasn’t he dressed 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 I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen to play Mozart’s Concerto No..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 anyone 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 have never heard you play like that Robby, how did you do it? ‘ Through the microphone Robby explained: ‘Well, Miss Honor ….. remember I told you that my mom was sick? Well, she actually had cancer and passed away this morning. And well …… she was born deaf, so tonight was the first time she had ever heard me play, and 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 in to foster care, I noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy. I thought to myself then how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil. 

No, I have never had a prodigy, but that night I became a prodigy …….. of Robby. He was the teacher and I was the pupil, for he had taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself, and may be even taking a chance on someone and you didn’t know why. 

Robby was killed years later in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murray Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April, 1995. 

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!

Live simply. 

Love generously.

Care deeply. 

Speak kindly.

Leave the rest to God.

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If it’s a “missed” opportunity, it was never yours to begin with.

~Stacy-Ann Hyde