I wasn't on the plane with Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and J.P. Richardson ("the big bopper") "the day the music died" in 1959 (probably due to the fact that I wasn't yet alive).
I wasn't on the plane with Lynyrd Skynyrd and companions that day in 1977 more music died, or with John Denver the day in 1993 even more music died (note to famous musicians, please do NOT get on planes. Ever. Even your own personal tour jets).
But, nevertheless, having your harp fall over and break is pretty bad.
I was finishing up a day at the Herbfest in York last week, and all had proceeded well and good. I had arrived, unpacked all my gear, and played to a variety of artsy people into gardening, many of whom were dressed kind of like me (and probably resembled exactly what I will look like and how I will be spending my weekends in forty years).
I packed the harp into its case and stood it upright. The wheels were a couple of feet away, so, slightly harried and rushed, I turned my back for an instant to grab them. You know what happens the minute you turn your back on a toddler...BAM!
Immediately I heard this awful echoing crash, and spun around (too late) to see my harp on the concrete floor. I went over (as casually as I could, since there will still people milling about) and gingerly lifted it up, and felt a string through the back of the case, where it definitely should not have been. Yikes.
At this point I didn't even want to open the case to look, as if not looking would magically give my harp a chance to mend itself, so I wheeled it out to the car (this part is a bit hazy to remember) and then slowly unzipped the case and looked inside.
My harp had cracked. Not cracked as in a hairline, or even a split. Cracked as in huge chunk of the neck at the top had broken off (where the levers are) with nearly all the string but ten broken. Yep. Cracked as in totalled.
In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have driven home right after this discovery. My mind was insanely numb, and when I thought about the sad pile of wood and string in my trunk I felt basically nothing, and just gripped the steering wheel tighter with my icy fingers.
I calmly called home to prep my mom (and I had gone so long without having to make the "you better sit down" type announcement to my parents!) and then thankfully had to rush out to another gig, so was still able to postpone leaving a state of shock and returning to reality.
About 9:00pm at night it starting sinking in that my harp of seven years was damaged, perhaps unrepairable. It is in its case right now in the schoolroom as I write this, and it still creeps me out a little (it is kind of feels like writing in a room with a coffin).
Okay, it is an inanimate object. Yes, I do have another harp (thank goodness) and things could be much worse. But this was my first harp, that been my musical companion through high school and college (where I wheeled it countless miles around campus) the harp of Eventide Lullaby, Which Way to Dublin Town, and EWTN. We've been through alot together.
I am not sharing all this because I am asking for a pity-party. I naturally did have a small, rather private one, with only my former piano teacher as a guest, and we lamented the loss together. But then, I sat down at Grace's harp and we played some music together.
Yes, having my harp break was an unexpected and unwanted turn of events. Do I wish I could go back and not turn my back just when the harp fell over? Of course. However, dwelling on that one moment combined with the phrase "I wish," has never, ever, in the history of the world helped anyone get back to the past (you're better off spending your days trying to build a time machine). As Gandelf would say "All we have to decide it what to do with the time that is given us."
The time that is given to me is the time right now. So right now, I am going to call the Marini's to get my harp into the shop to start getting it repaired. Right now, I am going to thank God (as my mom pointed out) that I wasn't in a car accident. Right now I am going to enjoy life, even if my harp is broken.
Temporarily.
I hope.
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