Off Key


By Phil Scovell



     I began playing the piano at age seven.  I had to get up an
half an hour early so I could get my practice time in before going
to school.  Many times I remember trying to read the notes and
see the keys through blurry morning vision.  I played on an old,
and I do mean old, upright piano.

     My dad, who was still living at that time, was a good
carpenter.  Over a period of several weeks, he was able to remove
all the dark ugly chipped black paint surface.  He repainted it
with a light blonde color and then installed some fancy mirrors
about six or seven inches tall which went around the entire top of
the piano.  It was a beautiful piece of furniture by the time he
finished.  There was only one problem.  As pretty as it looked, it
sounded terrible.  The sounding board was cracked, we were told,
and it could not be properly tuned under any circumstances.  The
piano served its purpose and we owned it for many years and
thousands of hours of practice were conducted by my older sisters
and myself as well as my mom.  In all the years we owned it, that
piano had been moved to four different homes, in two different
states, and survive.

     As I aged, so did our piano.  by the time I was in my early
teens, I was taking lessons from a college music professor and
learning a lot.  I was required to practice a minimum of six and a
half hours a week.  I enjoyed it and often practiced longer than
the weekly requirement.

     During these years, the piano was beginning to show its wear.
Unfortunately for me, one of the keys ceased functioning right in
the middle octave of the instrument.  It didn't create a problem
performing all my top to bottom scales, but when I had to practice
the songs I had learned, the missing key, or the key that wouldn't
play, caused a great deal of irritation.  So, to solve the
problem, I began playing all my songs an octave higher.  Try and
not get ahead of my story here.

     Finally the big day came.  Although I was only 14 years old,
my piano teacher taught at a nearby Christian Bible college.  He
requested that I play one of my songs at a Friday night concert
being held in the school music hall.  I was more than a little
nervous about it but said I would play.

     When it was my turn, I walked to the piano and sat down.  I
had practiced on the beautiful grand piano already so I was used
to its touch and sound.  I am not a musician, I don't have perfect
pitch, and I cannot just sit down at the piano and play any song I
hear like my wife does.  I love piano, however, but one thing,
especially when playing before an audience, that has always been a
problem for me, is starting out by finding middle C as a
reference.  I never had this problem at home, of course, but in
front of crowd?  Every time.  this time would be no different.

     As I began to play, I instantly realized I was an octave
higher.  This was normal at home but not here, definitely not
here, and definitely not now with all these professionals
listening to every note.  I thought about dropping down an octave
but I already felt ridiculously conspicuous so the last thing I
wanted to do is draw more attention to myself.  So, I finished my
piece one octave higher than normal and prayed no one noticed.
Fat chance!

     After the concert, the other music professor, a much older
man who could not hear what you were saying to him three feet away
but could hear a wrong note played in a piece on the other side of
a massive ampletorium that could seat 30,000 people, came up to
compliment me.  I knew better based upon his ear for music.  He
was a very kind soft spoken man and I always admired and liked
him.  His piano playing was out of this world, too.  Fortunately,
however, he wasn't the first in line.

     After every other student had come and congratulated me on a
job well done, tongue in cheek, the old music professor strolled
up and shook my hand.  He commented on how well I had done but I
knew the old man knew the truth.  He finally quietly, so no one
else could hear, said, "You played an octave higher, son.  Didn't
you?"  I told him I did realize that but was too embarrassed to
explain my own piano was missing a note in the middle of the piano
and so I was used to playing one octave higher.  He probably just
figured it was due to the fact I was blind so that's likely why I
skipped telling him the truth.  Oddly enough, this same elderly
man, would later become my piano teacher, when four years later, I
enrolled in the same Bible college.

     Did this little childhood story strike a familiar cord, in a
manner of speaking, in your heart?  Have you experienced
embarrassment but were helpless to do anything about it?  Have you
made any mistakes that exposed you to chagrin?  Have you screwed
up so badly that you were embarrassed to tears and crying made you
feel even worse?  Sit down and list all such events in your life.
When you have finished, offer them up to the Lord and commit them
to Him.  He died on the cross with all of those things which He
bore in your behalf.  This means, of course, you need not carry
the pain and hurt of these feelings any longer.  Let Jesus do His
job and you just concern yourself with knowing Him.

He's ready when you are.
www.SafePlaceFellowship.com