Down, Down and Away

Note: Read "Legends of My Falls," "One Flew Over the Basement Stairs" and "Snow White Falling on Cedar" before reading this post.

I wasn't exactly unpopular in high school. I wasn't a cheerleader like j was, but I was pretty involved at my Seattle school--feature editor of the school newspaper, school choir, select girls ensemble, swing choir, Madrigal singers, Homecoming chairman, Executive Council, Honor Society, on the winning "Beat the Brains" team, Vice-president of Youth for Christ, etc. I was not unattractive. I had lots of fun friends, and I looked forward to going to school every day. My family's church was, like my high school, just a few blocks from our house. We had a large, active youth group, and about 60 of us wouldn't dream of missing our Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings and nights together. Sunday mornings we were together for our 'opening exercises," as our church called our time of singing together before we split up in to our Sunday school classes.

Music defined my life, and one way I used my talents was accompanying the singing on Sunday morning. What had originally been the parsonage next door to the church became our youth center, and we all gathered in what had been the living room of the parsonage for singing. There was an old upright piano for me to play, and instead of a piano bench I had a swivel-top piano stool to sit on. This one week, unbeknownst to me, the stool had somehow been broken and the top came off. Instead of repairing it, someone just sat it on top of the ailing stool and left it there. This recipe for disaster was just waiting for me.

And so, on this particular Sunday morning I sat down on the stool, played the introduction with my usual gusto, and then just as everyone began to sing, BOOM! The stool fell apart and went crashing down on the hardwood floor, taking me with it.

Make no mistake, this was extremely painful, and the humiliation of it all is what I remember most. What teenage girl, no matter how thin she might be, wants to have people think she broke a piano stool.

Just for the record, I don't think anyone inquired about how I felt. I just remember this big roar of laughter. Was it really all that funny? No. Should someone have come to my rescue? Yes.

This is where the phrase "I wanted to fall through the floor" really has meaning for me.