YAMAHA RECALL: DANGEROUS PIANOS

I received this vital warning today from my former college music professor, Dr. Don Clark, and fellow alumni musicians, Sue Gage Wilcox and Beverly Lee Welch. As a music teacher, I felt it important to pass along the warning. I enlisted two of my students, Thad and Grant Alberty, to demonstrate the danger. No students were harmed in the making of this blog.

Yamaha has recalled 20,000 pianos due to a problem with the pedal sticking,

causing pianists to play faster than they normally would, resulting in a dangerous number of accidentals.

The sticky pedal also makes it harder for jazz pianists to come to a full stop at the end of a piece making it extremely risky for audiences.

Although there have been a tremendous number of accidentals, fortunately it has so far caused no deafs.

Analysts are wondering if it will put a damper on their bass market and if they will be able to sustain sales. Congress soon called in the President of Yamaha for questioning as to when the company first learned about the treble.

Congressional inquiries brought a sharp response from President Mitsuru Umemura of Yamaha, who quickly played down the scale of the problem before taking the fifth. "Only a few modal years are affected by what is a relative minor problem," he replied tiercely. With no progression towards a resolution, sales of Yamaha pianos have gone flat, and market analysts predict an interval of diminished revenue for the company. The president announced that Yamaha would triadvertising more and fine tune their marketing strategies in order to augment sales.

I'll leave you on this note, hoping you'll be sharp!

Naturally yours,

Kathy

FOLDED NAPKIN

Why did Jesus fold the linen burial cloth after His resurrection? The Gospel of John (20:7) tells us that the napkin, which was placed over the face of Jesus, was not just thrown aside like the grave clothes. The Bible takes an entire verse to tell us that the napkin was neatly folded, and was placed at the head of that stony coffin. Early Sunday morning, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and found that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance. She ran and found Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved. She said, 'They have taken the Lord's body out of the tomb, and I don't know where they have put him!' Peter and the other disciple ran to the tomb to see. The other disciple out ran Peter and got there first. He stopped and looked in and saw the linen cloth lying there, but he didn't go in. Then Simon Peter arrived and went inside. He also noticed the linen wrappings lying there, while the cloth that had covered Jesus' head was folded up and lying to the side. Was that important? Absolutely! Is it really significant? Yes! In order to understand the significance of the folded napkin, you have to understand a little bit about Hebrew tradition of that day. Every Jewish boy knew this tradition. When the servant set the dinner table for the master, he made sure that it was exactly the way the master wanted it. When the table was furnished perfectly, the servant would wait, just out of sight, until the master had finished eating. The servant would not dare touch that table, until the master was finished.. Now if the master was done eating, he would rise from the table, wipe his fingers, his mouth, and clean his beard. He would then wad up that napkin and toss it onto the table. The servant would then know to clear the table. For in those days, the wadded napkin meant, "I'm finished." But if the master got up from the table, folded his napkin and laid it beside his plate, the servant would not dare touch the table. Why? The folded napkin meant, "I'm coming back!" AND SO HE SHALL!

MY PHILOSOPHY ON DUST

Now you may think it strange that one even has a philosophy on the minutia of dust. It all began in the beginning, a very good place to begin.

Genesis 2:7 confirms it, "The Lord formed man from the dust of the ground."

Right after the honeymoon, you begin this lifelong entanglement with dust. We barely had furniture in our Nashville garage apartment but I still dusted my little, metal TV tray, decorated with our cake topper. When we moved into a nicer duplex, furnished by the church in Kinston, NC, I actually enjoyed dusting the real wood. The lemony smell of Pledge. The brilliant shine reflecting.

That thrill lasted about a week. The duty was every week.

I used Doug's old undershirts as dust cloths because Mama used Daddy's old shirts. Sacred family traditions live on! I heard about a mother having the butcher cut the leg of lamb in half. Her daughter asked, "Mama, why do you do that?"

"I don't know, Honey. My mama did it that way. You'll have to ask Grandma."

So she did and Grandma said, "My mother did it that way. I'll ask her why."

"Mama, why did you always have the leg of lamb cut in half?"

"Cause that's the only way it would fit in my little pot."

Traditions die hard but I evolved in my dust philosophy and moved from old underwear and Pledge to the simplicity of the feather duster. Oh my! The beautiful colors, the handle that kept me at a distance from the dust, the ease and grace of dusting. Once again I enjoyed dusting the furniture.

For about a day.

Dusting became the chore to do with the least effort and frequency that I could get away with. Weekly was a goal. Just a goal. Company coming was my true motivation. Sometimes we'd go two weeks between guests. When the sun shone through a window, my neglect was obvious to all.

As a mother, I trained my children well in the philosophy of dust. I beamed when I heard our little daughter chatting with a visiting playmate. The delighted guest cooed, "Ohhhh, cool! You can write your name on the furniture here."

"Yes," replied my little protege', "Mama says you may write names but no dates please."

Then came the Swiffer. It was a magic wand! Dust leapt to it and so did I. Longer arms, greater attraction...me to the device, it to the dust. It was love renewed.

For about an hour.

Eventually by the time our kids were grown and left home, my dusting became just blowing on the furniture occasionally, without moving the objects.

The thrill was gone. THEN when I thought I'd always hate dusting, a friend introduced me to one yet better. Compressed air!

Those little cans made for electronics work pretty well on furniture too. He said (yes, HE...thanks, Craig!) "With a good eye and steady aim, you can dust from across the room!" (I won't tell Lyn your secret method.)

So my summation on dust is this. You were made from it. You chase it out of your house every week. It comes right back in. Pointless work. Most dust is actually dead skin cells...you! So it's literally self defeating to wage war on dust. And one day you'll return to it. Ecclesiastes 3:20 confirms it, "All go to the same place, all come from dust and to dust all return."

So why bother? It wins. In the beginning, through life and in the end. With Biblical support, I give up.

Dust to dust,

Kathy

TAXIDERMED

I love a line from the movie, Inkheart: "Don't just stand there like you're taxidermed!"

Reminds me of an incident that took place during the '70s when we were house-sitting for Dr. E. B. Pannkuk, an orthodontist and deacon in our church. He's a big game hunter so his house is filled with trophy animals from all over the world.

His wife, Marlene, a gracious lady, showed me around the house.

She gave me detailed instructions on how to work everything. Everything included a little remote control for the house alarm system.

"If you need a silent alarm, Kathy, press 7 and the police will come."

"Oh, Marlene, I'm sure we won't need that," I laughed.

My grandmother, Mamie Tippett, joined us there one day. She'd lived in Johnston County, NC, all her life, about 30 miles from our home in Raleigh. So this trek was an adventure for her.

In her day, it really was an all day trip to the capital city by horse and wagon. She was in her 80s when she took her first airplane ride. My cousin, Charles, flew her and buzzed her house. Grandma loved new adventures.

So my younger brother, Ricky, brought Grandma over for supper one evening during our house-sitting week there. She walked around, amazed at all the strange, exotic animals.

Grandma gawked at the lion and eased around the leopard, studying each trophy, beady eyes to beady eyes. Trying to wrap her mind around it, she finally clapped her hands and exclaimed, "Whoooo-eeee! That man musta' gone all OVER North Carolina to shoot this many animals!"

Ricky, always up for a challenge, said, "E.B. told me he swims 40 laps a day in their pool. I'm gonna do that."

Ricky tried it but gave out before finishing. Only when they talked later did he realize that E.B. didn't say laps, he said lengths. It was a long pool...twice as long to my defeated brother!

Uncle Ricky with our Kent and Kimberly celebrating a birthday

I prepared dinner as Ricky milled about the den, picking up what he thought was the TV remote. The TV didn't come on so he turned it on manually then tried the remote again. I was distracted but vaguely heard him muttering about it not working.

"Ricky! That's not a TV remote! It's for the alarm system!"

He sheepishly put it down with, "Oops."

"Just so you didn't press 7..." I admonished.

"I did."

I chuckled. He's such a jokester. He didn't chuckle back. "Rick, tell me you didn't REALLY just press 7!"

"I did."

Still not quite sure I believed him, I continued with supper prep. Then the doorbell rang. Spatula in hand, I answered it to find two, uniformed policemen, "Ma'am, we received an alarm from this house."

I laughed too loudly, nervously explaining at warp speed, "Youseewe'rehouse-sittingforthe Pannkuksandmycrazy,littlebrother..."

They weren't laughing. "Do you have some ID, ma'am?"

I did but it proved nothing. I pointed to my confused grandmother standing beside me. I laughed again and tried to get the levity going. It only went down when I said, "Would I rob a house with my grandmother here and a spatula in my hand?"

My head swiveled left then right, seeking verification, "Ricky! Ricky!" No answer. They probably thought I made him up too. Eventually they realized I was telling the truth. When they left, I fell back against the wall, heaved a sigh and sank straight to the floor.

Ricky descended the staircase, grinning guiltily.

"Where WERE when I needed you, Richard Lee Tippett?! You probably went upstairs to hide when the doorbell rang!" I accused, not really thinking he did.

"I did."

He did!

Don't just stand there like you're taxidermed.

He did.

Neither forgiving nor forgetting,

Kathy

BACKSTAGE PASS

I peered at the actors on stage as I clutched the curtain and waited for my cue. A hand tapped my shoulder and whispered, "You're on!" My heart pounded as I moved out for my entrance. Then it hit me, "You don't know your lines! What are you going to say? Those actors need your cues. The audience is waiting!" Panic ensued.

Then I wake up. This is a dream I've had over and over through the years. Slight variations have me stepping on stage, only to realize that in my haste, I forgot something else. I'm center stage in my slip!

You probably heard the one about the nervous actor, who got his first break on stage. He only had two lines but learned them well, practicing over and over, "I heard a pistol shot! Who fired that shot?" He was told to get them right or he'd be fired. Performance night, he dashed out as the gunshot rang, "I heard a shistol pot! I-I heard a shostol pit! Oh-hhh SHOOT! I'm fired!"

Bert, my older brother, was a photographer and journalist for years.

That combo got him a backstage pass to Ryman Auditorium, Home of the Grand Old Opry for you non-Nashvillians.

A new facility was built and part of the old stage encased in the new one. Johnny Cash was but one of many who stood on those wooden planks and sang.

Photos of Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash by Bert Tippett

One night Mama and family came backstage with Bert. Wow! A backstage pass and a chance to meet Johnny! Sure enough when Mama spotted him, she boldly pulled her 5'2" frame up to his 6'3" stature with, "Mr. Cash, would you please let our family take a picture with you?"

"Yes ma'am," the polite man in black respectfully obliged.

Instantly, Mama went into director mode and started arranging family members like toy soldiers, trying to get the short ones in front, so everyone could be seen. Somehow that put Johnny in back!

Mama and Gwen upstaged him! So the picture looks more like a family reunion where this tall stranger just walked up and joined.

Minnie Pearl at Ryman by Bert

Bert captured another famous face on tour during our Navy brat years in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.

Bob Hope in Gitmo by Bert

A backstage pass carries privilege but also responsibility. This life is just a dress rehearsal for the next. But we can peek beyond the curtain, read the script and glimpse the beauty to unfold. We prepare here for living there.

Opening Cue to move on stage: "Well, done, thou good and faithful servant. ENTER into the joy of your Lord."

Security ID: Name written in the Lamb's Book of Life

Script: The Word of God for the people of God, studied and acted out

Dress: white robe of righteousness

Funding: paid for with the blood of Christ

Role (walk-on or star, your choice): Knowing who you are in Christ and living that life abundantly earns top billing, "Thou hast been faithful over few things. I will make thee ruler over many."

"We think we're in the land of the living heading towards the land of the dying. But we're actually in the land of the dying, heading toward the land of the living."

Joseph Stowell

We're spiritual beings having a temporary, human experience. Although backstage is temporary, it's vital to eternity. Everyone stands before the Director and Creator one day.

Walking the red carpet, laid by Him!

Kathy