PUSHING THE RIGHT KNOBS A LIFETIME ENDEAVOR

In the small village church I attended in my childhood there was a pipe organ. It was an entity unto itself, a piece of furniture standing alone, not the keyboard here and the pipes elsewhere, concealed by lattice or velvet curtains. When new, it must have been the pride of the church, if pride is allowable in a humble church.

By the time I arrived, a newer musical instrument, a piano, had already replaced the old organ. Still, despite the worn carpets on the pedals, deeply yellowed ivories and "inside ailments," the organ stood in its place, polished and gleaming, a reminder of former days when assorted voices mingled in praise and thanksgiving and the brass pipes, arranged in peaks pointing toward heaven sent up beautiful music.

Sometimes, after school, some of us girls who were fond of forming little clubs with various aims, would meet at the church. The doors were always open and the minister was almost always there, not to noticeably supervise but yet to be a gentle guardian.

At such times we loved to act as if we could play the piano and we'd form duets, trios or quartets and sing lustily, off key or on key. The greatest fun, though, was to try to play the old organ. The keyboard was like the piano keyboard, but there were mysterious knobs above the keyboard that could be pushed in or pulled out in any sort of combination. They had funny little letterings on them which spelled nothing that we'd ever heard of. But it was fun to push in or pull out an assortment of knobs at random as if we were great organists who knew just what we were doing.

We pumped furiously on the foot pedals and someone worked a wooden lever to the side back which was supposed to do something.

I understood this lever better than some because Dad had a blacksmith shop on the farm and sometimes, when he was shaping a horseshoe, he'd let me work the bellows which I came to learn sent a rush of air into the hot coals that would make them burn even hotter.

I knew there was no fire inside the organ, nevertheless I told my friends the lever was "to set the organ on fire." They understood my figure of speech and pedaled harder and pushed and pulled more vigorously the "foreign languaged" knobs. We'd sing "Jesus Loves Me" or "Bringing In The Sheaves" while the organ emitted very peculiar sounds.

The minister did not scold us, his attitude being that it was better to have us there than "on the streets." The only things on the streets (gravel roads and dirt paths) might be Gruners' hound asleep on the porch of Antoine's General Merchandise, Mrs. Wigger coming out of the post office with her mail, or Mr. and Mrs. Vansickle passing through town in their big spring wagon, pulled by their horses, Sam and Ned. We knew the names of everyone's horses, dogs, cats, etc.

One day the minister brought a kinswoman to the church to meet us. Of all things, she could play the organ, although we knew it was vastly unmusical and tried, in childish ways, to apologize for it.

"What would you like to sing?" she asked.

"Jesus Loves Me," we shouted in unison.

We gathered 'round the organ. Someone was appointed to work the lever. We watched as she pushed in all the knobs, then pulled out certain ones here and there.

"What are those?" someone had the temerity to ask.

"Oh, they are what makes the music sound like you want it to." She put on a little demonstration to show us how, by pulling out a different combination of knobs, you got a different sound. We could hear the difference. "You've got to know which ones to pull out or push in," she went on and then grasped the opportunity to liken this procedure to life, asking what knobs we thought we'd pull in and out to make well music of life.

It was almost above our heads but soon someone, evidently thinking of the song we had requested, offered a suggestion, "Love?" This set off an avalanche of suggested life knobs to pull and push in order to make well life music.

I must have been very receptive that day, for I've never forgotten the demonstration and have spent a lifetime "fiddling" with the "knobs." I hope, before the end, I'll have found all the right ones.

REJOICE!