The Story of Robby
Date Added: June 18, 2001
If we want a story to be true enough, we start to believe it is. As a result, we may (often inadvertently) add 'facts' to the story that weren't really there, to make it more believable. That may be the case with this tale of a child teaching a student a valuable lesson.
At the prodding of my friends, I am writing this story. My name is Mildred Hondorf. I am a former elementary school music teacher from DeMoines, Iowa.
I've always supplimented my income by teaching piano lessons--something I've done for over 30 years. Over the years I found that children have many levels of musical ability. I've never had the pleasure of having a protege though I have taught some talented students.
However I've also had my share of what I call "musicically challenged" pupils. One such student was 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 with 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 rythm needed to excel.
But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary 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'd always say, "My mom's going to hear me play some day."
But 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 stopped in. Then one day Robby stopped coming to our lessons. I thought about calling him but assumed, because of his lack of ability, that he had decided to pursue something else. I also was glad that he stopped coming. He was a bad advertisement for my teaching!
Several weeks later I mailed to the student's homes a flyer on the upcoming recital. To my surprise Robby (who received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and because he had dropped out he really did not qualify. He said that his mom had been sick and unable to take him to piano lessons but he was still practicing. "Miss Hondorf...I've just got to play!" he insisted.
I don't know what led me to allow him to play in the recital. Maybe it was his persistance or maybe it was something inside of me saying that it would be alright. The night for the recital came. The high school gymnasium was packed with parents, friends and relatives. I put Robby up last in the program before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any damage he would 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 stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked like he' run an egg-beater through it. "Why didn't he dress 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 he began. I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen Mozart's Concerto #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 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?"
Through the microphone Robby explained: "Well Miss Hondorf...remember I told you my mom was sick? Well actually she had cancer and passed away this morning. And well....she was born deaf so tonight was the first time she ever heard me play. 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 into foster care, I noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought to myself how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil.
No, I've never had a progege but that night I became a protege...of Robby's. He was the teacher and I was the pupil. For it is he that taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself and maybe even taking a chance in someone and you don't know why.
This is especially meaningful to me since after serving in Desert Storm Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995, where he was reportedly....playing the piano.
And now, a footnote to the story. If you are hinking about forwarding this message, you are probably thinking about which people on your address list aren't the "appropriate" ones to receive this type of message. The person who sent this to you believes that we can all make a difference.
We all have thousands of opportunities a day to help realize God's plan. So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice:
Do we pass along a spark of the Divine? Or do we pass up that opportunity, and leave the world a bit colder in the process?
You have two choices now:
You know the choice I made. Thank you for reading this....
Proving this one true or false has proven quite difficult. I tried several different lookups for a Mildred Hondorf in Des Moines (not DeMoines), Iowa, and came up empty. That is the only hard fact the story presents. The rest of it is virtually unprovable without more information about the events and players in it.
I found a list of victims of the OKC bombing, and there were about 6 "Roberts", but without more to go on, there's no way to know if any of them were the "Robby" of the story.
Besides, close inspection of the text leads me to believe the portion about the Gulf War and OKC bombing were added after the story started circulating. The paragraph prior makes very conclusive remarks and would have made the perfect ending to the story. Plus, the last three paragraphs have a more cynical tone and different writing style. Somebody along the line must have thought the story would be more touching if the reader thought this virtuous young virtuoso gave his life in service to his country or lost it through an act of senseless violence.
The way it tells you to forward it on and the implication that if you don't forward it, you're that "other type of person," don't match the tone of the rest of the story, either - and quite frankly, it's offensive. If the story is touching enough, people are able to choose on their own to forward it to friends, they don't have to be belittled or bullied into doing it.
Not content with my reasoning, astute reader, Rita B., adds the following observations:
"The piano story is most certainly a hoax. Consider this:
Well put, Rita. Break this Chain!