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Remembering Aquino Braganca (b. 6 April 1924), who fought for freedom
of the former Portuguese colonies in Africa. An online tribute
http://aquinobraganca.wordpress.com/ (includes many historical
references, some photographs and documents)
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ROBBY'S NIGHT
By Valmiki Faleiro
This Easter day, may I share with you an old internet story. I have abridged
the original,
to size it to this column’s space…
My name’s Mildred Hondorf. I’m a music teacher from Des Moines, Iowa-USA. I've
been
teaching piano for over 30 years. Over time, I’ve found that children have many
levels of
musical ability. I've never had the pleasure of a child prodigy, though I have
taught some
talented students.
I've also had my share of "musically challenged" pupils. One such student was
Robby.
He was 11, when his mother, a single mom, dropped him off for his first piano
lesson.
I prefer students begin at an earlier age (especially boys!), which I explained
to Robby.
But Robby said that it had always been his mother's dream to hear him play the
piano.
That made me take him as a student. I later realised it was a hopeless
endeavor. Much
as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm. But, he dutifully
reviewed
his scales and some elementary pieces that I require all my students to learn.
He struggled over the months. I cringed. At the end of each lesson he'd say,
"My mom's
going to hear me play someday." It seemed hopeless. He just didn’t have any
inborn
ability. I knew his mother from a distance. She dropped Robby and picked him up
in her
aged car. She smiled and waved, but never stepped in.
Then one day Robby stopped coming. I thought it was because of his lack of
ability. Was
I glad he stopped – he was a bad advertisement for my teaching!
Some time later, I mailed all students a flyer on an upcoming recital. To my
surprise,
Robby asked if he could be in the recital. I told him the recital was for
current pupils and
he didn’t qualify. He said his mother had been sick and unable to take him to
piano
lessons, but he was still practicing.
"Miss Hondorf, please, I must play!"
I don't know what led me to allow him to play in the recital. But I put Robby
last in the
program, before I went onstage to thank everybody and play a finishing piece. I
thought
any damage Robby would do could be salvaged through my ’curtain closer.’
The night for the recital came. The school gym was packed with parents and
relatives.
The recital went off without a hitch. The students had been practicing and it
showed.
Then came Robby’s turn. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked like he'd
run an
eggbeater through it. "Why didn't his mother groom him for this special night,"
I thought.
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 wasn’t 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?" Unaware the microphone
was
on, Robby explained: "Well, Miss Hondorf, remember I told you my mom was sick?
She
actually had cancer and passed away this morning. And, well … she was born deaf
so
tonight was the first time she’d ever hear me play. I wanted to make it
special."
There wasn't a dry eye that evening, as the Social Services people led Robby to
foster
care.
Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal
Building in
Oklahoma City in April-1995. (ENDS.)
The Valmiki Faleiro weekly column at:
http://www.goanet.org/index.php?name=News&file=article&sid=330
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The above article appeared in the April 12, 2009 edition of the Herald, Goa
