I recently drove past this gorgeous church, where more than 2 decades ago I nervously performed (for several years in a row) on warm [ahem, sweltering] June Sunday afternoons for a small audience of faithful family members who would gather to listen to yet another rendition of "The Entertainer" or "Fur Elise," plunked out on the keys by children aspiring to someday become famous concert pianists. (I must stop now to thank my own faithful family members who came to support [read: ENDURED] my faltering, timidly-played melodies.)
In the 25 years since I was last there, the church has become stunningly beautiful (and I'm sure the enormous pipe organ housed inside has become considerably smaller as well). I was filled with nostalgia, considering the recent tragic death of my kind and patient childhood piano teacher (read the aforementioned church's tribute to her here--she was privileged to play that astounding pipe organ for 58 YEARS!! Even with her red hair and the same last name, our families were not related, except through unity in Christ Jesus.)
{My summer piano lessons were scheduled for 10 am Thursday mornings, usually starting late due to conversation between Shirley and Mom and almost always followed by a stop at "Dad's Ice Cream Shop" walk-up window for my "usual"--small chocolate cone with rainbow jimmies. }
My mind recalled that Dad had actually been given Shirley's name as a devoted piano teacher by a mutual friend Jim Burns. Jim sang with the Coatesville Choraliers and Shirley was the accompanist. (Did Shirley's husband work with Dad and Jim? I can't remember...although in its glory days, who DIDN'T work at "the mill"?!) I remember attending Christmas concerts of the Choraliers at CASH.
Along the same road as that church is the store of Jim's current employment--he bags groceries and greets the customers. Jim was not just my dad's co-worker, but trusted friend, for more than 40 years now. I would love to find some of the old photos of their hunting days, their sons included! Jim would often call (on the phone or in person!) late in the evening, pulling into our drive-way with in his blue (or was it green?) Ford pick-up (and in later years, in his wife Dottie's Cadillac!) bringing paper bags full of candy bars or at Christmas time the infamous specialty-brand fruit cakes! "Could I bother you for a cup of tea, Loi-ey?" he would ask my mom. Jim would always tell the greatest stories. We knew we had an open invitation every summer to swim in their family's pool on Bailey Road. And by the next season, he would always check to see if Dad was up for taking in to some high school football, especially the game between rivals, Downingtown and Coatesville. There's a picture somewhere of the time when Jim went with our family to the Meadowlands Stadium in NY to see the TN Vols play!
(found it!!!)
Dad also had a connection via work of someone who constructed wooden playhouses. I believed he lived in Cochranville. (Not an important detail, just a random piece of information--I vaguely remember at the intersection of 10 and 41 trying to see his house on the next street over....wish I could ask Dad his name.) Right about the time that my photo appeared on the front page of the local paper (*that's a story for another day*), sometime in my second grade year, the long awaited playhouse arrived at my house and was positioned along the hedge in the back yard! Joyous day! I had envisioned my little table and chairs positioned just so with a white picket fence surrounded by happy little flowers out front. The playhouse dream was nice while it lasted; but alas! the playhouse was constructed with non-treated wood and soon was bug-infested. I believe before it fell in completely, it was even home to a family of raccoons (or skunks!)---that was after it was piled high with old newspapers that never made it to "recycling heaven."
