Chapter Forty-Six

Here’s the next Chapter of Lost and Found.

Thanks to the wonderful advice I received last week from one of the good friends who are reading this book, it looks like I’ve managed to leap through the block which was keeping me from moving forward through some tough parts of my life which need to be written into this book. The difficult parts aren’t all written yet, but I have made a good start. Thank you, jl!

Also, in this chapter I’ve included another video which another of my wonderful friends sent me the link to. I had another video I was going to use, but this one is way better. So, thank you, cn!

Hope you all enjoy this Chapter. It’s about a huge moment in my life, one I can still feel in my soul to this day.

Be well — be in peace,

Ron Rink
==================================================

One of the classes we had at my school was the Auditorium class. We did a variety of activities to help bring kids out of their shells and teach them to be less self-conscious.

Near the end of the school term, there was an assembly of all the students in the Auditorium. The students who were taking the Auditorium class were doing an activity for the enjoyment of the rest of the student body. When it was time for our class, each student would draw out of a box the teacher was holding, a slip of paper on which was written some activity which the child would go up on the stage and perform. She would then call the name of each student in alphabetical order and tell the audience what the student would do. There would be things like pretending to be a boxer like Joe Louis, or acting like a particular animal, or singing a familiar song for the time. There were other activities such as playing a character in a movie or a book.

On my paper was written, “Pretend you are Chopin in the movie, ‘A Song to Remember’.”

I could hardly believe my eyes. No one in the school knew I played the piano except for a couple of the janitors. The students didn’t know. The teachers didn’t know. I had kept it a closely guarded secret so as not to destroy my street-gang image. However, at that moment any thought of protecting my image had vanished and was replaced by the excitement of being able to show off in front of my peers.

I could hardly wait until my turn — and I was one of the last students in the alphabet. There was a baby grand piano already on the stage. I had begun to run the piece through my mind; hearing the music in my head and feeling my fingers play the notes. I was focusing on the piece so much I didn’t hear or see any of the other students do their performances, even though there had been plenty of laughter from the audience. When we had done this sort of thing in previous Auditorium classes, the kids would all be silly and ham it up in order to make the kids in the audience laugh.

“Roland Van Buren!” the teacher called out. “Roland, you’re next.”
I took a deep swallow and walked up to the teacher and handed her my slip of paper.

“Roland will be pretending to be Frederick Chopin in the movie, A Song to Remember”, she announced to the students.

As I made my way up onto the stage, there was loud, raucous applause and some of the guys yelled out, “Hooray, Frederick.” I heard one student yell out, “Play the Polonaise, Frederick!”

As I walked out to the center of the stage I could feel some nervousness creep into my body. I stood next to the piano, made a short bow to the audience, and then sat on the piano stool. The students in the audience were giggling and laughing, waiting to see what antic I would do next. I sat quietly at the piano for a couple of seconds and waited for the laughter to die down while I also tried to calm my nerves. My hands were sweating and felt like they were shaking. The auditorium got quieter than I had ever heard it.

I brought my hands to the keyboard, put my head down and played the first, dynamic and dramatic notes of the Polonaise. Although I was focused on the music, I heard a gasp in the audience. This wasn’t make-believe—they realized they were hearing the real thing and the realization had begun to take hold. I became completely focused on the piece. I felt an inner excitement which was new to me. I had played before an audience in church, but only hymns. This was the first time I had ever truly performed a serious piece of music in front of an audience.

I felt as though I was entering the music itself, hearing its clarity, feeling the energy. I seemed to be taken up by the tension in the music—the urgency of it. I was absorbed by the passion that Chopin put into this piece which marked his deep feelings for his homeland. Even the parts I was having trouble with in my practices went smoothly.

Although I hadn’t memorized the entire piece, I miraculously knew every note of it by heart that day.

(Here’s a video of the great Vladimir Horowitz playing this wonderful Chopin Polonaise as only Vladimir Horowitz could! Please understand – I did not have the hands or the talent of Horowitz – not even close. Few people ever did! My hands were much smaller – my talent was good for my age – but not anything like what you’ll hear in this video. I could reach an octave easily because I did have hands which were a good size for a kid my age. Playing an octave was vital in this piece as you’ll see. My teacher also worked on some inventive fingering in order for me to play this piece reasonably well – but again, this is Horowitz you’ll see in this video – true greatness! But for the people in my first audience – and to me, what I played that day sounded good – and I was proud of this event in my life. This video of Horowitz was recorded in Musikverein, Vienna, Austria on May 31, 1987 which makes him 84 years old. Two years before his death on November 5th, 1989.)

I finished the piece, dropped my hands into my lap and lowered my head. The students were completely quiet. There wasn’t a sound in the auditorium. I noticed I was sweating. Wondering why it was so quiet, I looked out at the audience and suddenly a roar of applause and cheering broke out. The students were all on their feet. I noticed the Auditorium teacher off to the side and she was crying and clapping her hands. I stood next to the piano and went to put my left hand on the piano to take a bow and saw both my hands were trembling uncontrollably. I held onto the edge of the piano as though my life depended on it and pressed my right hand against my leg so it wouldn’t shake. I thought if I let go of the piano, I would fall flat on my face. As I took my bows, comments floated up to me—“Did you hear that?” “Did you know he could play like that?” “It sounded just like the movie.”

I finally felt my body settle down enough so I could let go of the piano and walk to the steps leading off the stage. I wanted to break out into an enormous smile, but I was so used to being the tough guy around school that my poker-face took over. The teacher met me as I came down the steps and put her arms around me. I felt awkward because this wasn’t done at school—teachers didn’t go around hugging students. My arms hung limply by my sides as she held me. She whispered in my ear, “Thank you, Roland, that was certainly a surprise. I had no idea you could play so beautifully. That was just remarkable—I’m at a loss for words.” She was still crying.

I thanked her and moved away. Some of the students came up, shook my hand and offered shy comments. I was getting claps on my back and a couple of the girls giggled as they asked for my autograph. I was completely enthralled. It took every ounce of effort I had not to show how excited I was with all the attention. Although I felt awkward doing it, I did sign the autograph books for the girls. I kept my straight face as I made my way back to my seat. I was a State Fair Duke and I didn’t want anyone to forget it.

For weeks after the auditorium event, I would find students looking at me in the halls with smiles on their faces. A few of the girls started to pay special attention to me. They would stop me in the hall and ask questions about the piano—“Who was my teacher?”—“How long had I been playing?”—“How long did I practice every day?”—“When did I start?” I noticed when I passed other girls in the hall they would lower their eyes and giggle as they went by.

Not all of the reactions were positive, however. There was one guy who was walking down the hall in the opposite direction from me when he suddenly lurched into me, knocked me off balance as he passed and sneered, “Hey, piano-pussy, play me a pretty tune!”

This guy wasn’t any taller than I was, but he was fat. I turned, brought my knee hard up into his crotch, rammed my right fist into his belly, grabbed his throat with my left hand and slammed him up against the lockers. “I’ll play you a tune on your fucking head! If you pull that shit again fatso, you’ll be answering to me and my boys.” Wide-eyed and gasping for breath, he took off down the hall without a backward glance.

One of the most interesting things that grew out of the auditorium performance incident was the fact that a few students, mostly girls, had begun hanging around my front porch at home whenever I was practicing. That lasted for several weeks as long as the weather wasn’t too cold. I definitely liked all the positive attention—especially from the girls.

A new world was beginning to open up.
==================================================
My other blog about Buddhism

http://www.buddhistbelief.com
==================================================