When the other ‘stick’ drops!

One truism almost never fails to disappoint: Nobody likes to talk about moments of embarrassment. Sometimes however, it’s good and almost therapeutic to reflect on the humorous elements of such occasions. With that said, I have come to understand that there were some who found the following event somewhat amusing therefore I offer it in such the same manner:

On Sunday morning there was a distinct, unmistakable sound that penetrated every eardrum during the close of the musical portion of the first service. As my musical efforts drew to a close and Pastor had come up to pray, I withdrew from the drum sarcophagus and proceeded out and down along with the other musicians. Suddenly, a momentary loss of muscular coordination proved to be the beginning of a few seconds that seemed to last for several minutes. Without authorization, a drumstick had jumped from my hands (I’m convinced at a moment of its own choosing) and landed on the platform top step of about six or so. Descending and gaining speed with each step, it proceeded to faithfully demonstrate Newton’s law of gravity. Up until now, only the Lord and myself were aware of the present situation but unfortunately the unforgiving hard, resilient tile floor lay inevitably in its path. I quickly calculated the time it would take me to silently leap down the flight of stairs in an effort to outrun this spinning piece of hardwood before it reached its destination. I concluded that this may have made matters worse and created more of a disturbance due to my current position and the stick’s trajectory.

Then time slowed to an almost stand still. I watched (and listened) in horror as the stick made that first strike followed by innumerably more. In music, timing is everything. This was not good timing nor was it musical. Was this stick content with simply hitting the floor and bouncing a few times? No, this was a live one that insisted on continuing it’s seemingly slow, ear piercing twenty foot journey to the far side of the sanctuary. I was never more aware of the nice clean, polished floors at Westwood than at that moment. Nope, not one obstructive piece of dirt in the place! Finally it found a secure resting place against the block wall which coincided precisely with my experience of peak mortification.

Okay, so this is a bit over dramatized. So I’ll just conclude by saying that in all my fourteen years of playing Sunday morning services I have yet to drop a drumstick in this manner. I’ve lost several over the drum kit and into the orchestra pit once or twice but never down a stairwell and across a hard, resounding floor in the middle of deafening silence.

Pastor, I promise to look into a pair a hard, rubber sticks!

Jim Richardson

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