Thank you all for your kind words! There are a lot of us in this rocky old boat, aren't there? I still plunk away at the piano and keyboard at home, but I do it standing up, for as long as I can. And nobody hears the clunkers but me.

I can't imagine what memoirs of playing the organ would include...hmm, starting back when Pastor Emmitt had to check with me first to make sure I could play a certain hymn ("Is it more than two flats? Sorry.")

I'm self-taught, or as I prefer to say, God-taught. I think He heard me sing and figured it would be better if I played the organ instead!

Let's see, memoirs. How about the time the power went off in the middle of a song? The time a mouse ran out the opening by the volume pedal, and I could see him out of the corner of my eye, debating whether or not to run back in? (All the while I was trying to play)

Or the time I could see what the congregation couldn't see--a bat flying around the back of the sanctuary.

Or one of my favorites: we had a children's evangelist who used "magic" tricks. All the while he was giving his message, the rabbit he was eventually going to pull out of a hat was in a sling behind the pulpit, staring at me with his pinky little eyes and twitching nose. It was all I could do to hold it together.