That morning in the music store where I work a young man quietly walked in, and made his way over to the gift item section. He appeared to be college student age, and I noticed that he was looking over the toy flutes and recorders. I took a moment to walk over to see if I could be of assistance, and pointed him to a display on the shelf that had penny whistles (a flute instrument made of tin plate). As I walked back to the counter I heard him exclaim, “Oh, wow!”
I couldn’t imagine what could be so exciting to a college student on that particular shelf. Perhaps he was re-living some boyhood memories of having played similar toy instruments while growing up. Then I heard him exclaim again, “Wow, I can’t believe this!”
A few minutes later he came up to the counter to purchase his newly found treasure: an authentic tin plate penny whistle! He then explained to me that he had popped into the store on a whim to specifically look for such a flute, not really expecting to actually find one here. But he did and he could hardly contain his excitement.
I didn’t get it.
As he was paying for his purchase, a group of his college friends came into the store looking for him. As they walked in he almost shouted, “You guys won’t believe what I just found—a real penny whistle!” His friends smiled and chuckled a bit, and by this point I was really interested to see this scenario play out in more detail—because I still didn’t get it.
After our transaction, he walked over to where his friends were standing and shared his joy in this unexpected find. Then he pulled his brand new penny whistle out of the box, and began to play it. Out of that little instrument came forth a brief but beautiful melody, with the sweet and melodic flute sound that often characterizes Celtic music.
Then I got it.
The young man then asked his friends if they remembered that particular song, and several shook their heads in acknowledgement. I was hoping the impromptu concert would continue, but they began to make their way out the store as the young man thanked us again for his purchase.
After he left I found those moments lingering in my mind, seeing and hearing the joy in that young man at finding the one special instrument so uniquely connected to the gift of music within him, a gift that once released brought joy to all those who had ears to hear that morning.
And I realized it had stirred up a similar longing deep within me also.
Toward the end of that same day, a woman came into the store to pick up an old accordion she had brought in to have repaired and serviced. She was a lovely lady in her mid-seventies, soft-spoken and very gracious in both her manner and appearance. She was the only customer in the store at the time and was being helped by another employee (who could actually play accordion); but I found myself drawn into their conversation out of interest for this quiet woman who was somehow connected to this old accordion.
She expressed an interest in learning how to play the particular kind of accordion she had, so the store assistant showed her a few tips on a similar but newer model accordion on the shelf. After playing the new one, he took her old repaired accordion out of the box to see the differences between the two models. He asked her if she wanted to play it, but she declined saying that it had been a long time since she had played. So he picked it up and began to play it for her.
Then I saw it—again.
This woman’s face lit up with an indescribably beautiful smile and a look of joy that almost brought tears to my eyes. As the store assistant began playing the old accordion he commented to her, “Oh, this one is better than that new one on the shelf. This sound is much sweeter.” The sound was indeed sweet to this woman’s ears, yet the sparkle in her eyes and the glow on her face at that moment were being drawn from a source much deeper than just a natural sound in her ears. It was as if the music immediately transported her to another place and time where she was seeing someone she had not seen in years or hearing a voice from long ago.
Something had prompted her just weeks earlier to bring that old accordion in to be repaired to playing condition again. Why? I think the look on her face said it all.
I might have missed it had I not witnessed a similar phenomenon in the college student earlier that morning. Now I get it.
It is the gift of music.
It is a gift to be received, enjoyed and treasured by young and old alike. It is a gift that communicates and beautifully portrays the human experience we all share, and then magically itself becomes a living part of that same experience. Music is a magical thread that causes the weaver to become woven into the very fabric of his artistry.
It is not too early to begin, nor too late. If you are young, begin now and stay young. If you are old, begin now and become young again. And if it has been years since you played your accordion, or penny whistle, or whatever instrument, then it’s time to come see us at the music store—the place where magic moments happen.
