For the past five days I have spent at least one hour each day practicing the organ. This is an unprecedented accomplishment since - well, possibly since high school. While I did play the organ weekly throughout college, I doubt that there were many, if any, times where I actually managed to practice five days in a row (I'm sure this bit of information would make my organ professor cringe at the memory). To be honest, there simply wasn't time; such dedication is a luxury few college students other than music majors can afford.
Now, however, I've grown accustomed to a life where "organist" is no longer part of my identity. Whereas I sometimes thought that few people within the world of my small hometown knew me as anything but the unofficial town accompanist, now it seems that few people I know in Seattle even recall that I know how to play an instrument at all. But thankfully my friend Leena remembered, and the result is that I'll be playing for a wedding this Valentine's Day.
And, I must admit, I'm excited. Very much so. It feels good to slide onto the organ bench and feel the pedals beneath my feet. And when it comes to pulling out all the stops, there's nothing like trilling through Widor's magnificent Toccata to get a musical high. Why don't I do this more often?
Of course, I know the answer: it isn't convenient, and, when other responsibilities or simply the desire to curl up on the sofa at home call, it becomes a chore rather than a joy. But I don't want this to be the end; I am still a musician, I realize. It's too deep in my history to just disappear, even through the quiet years.
So perhaps I should put myself out there again as a substitute organist, and perhaps there will be other weddings in the future. But for now I'll focus on this one - the rehearsal is tomorrow night, and I plan to be ready!