MY 50 YEAR MARIMBAPHONE STORY

REMEMBERING BRINGS SUCH SWEET VISIONS TO MY OLD HEART AND MIND.
Now I invite you to enjoy the path Marimbas and I have taken together.  And for me it truly has been Magical.




Rosalie playing her marimba.








A Patronus is a magical protector in some fiction stories.

When I was a young girl my Uncle Delbert called my parents and asked if he could bring his Merimbaphone to our house for a while since he was remodeling his room where it was situated and he didn't want the dust to harm it.  Mom and Dad agreed to let him bring it over to our house for whatever time he needed to leave it.  Well, surprising to all of us it turned out to stay more than 5 years at our house.  And we took advantage of the fact that my Dad was a music teacher and he was excited to teach me to play it.

Not long after my first lesson I was playing easy tunes and within a few weeks I had progressed to some medium hard ones that Daddy felt like, when people asked me to play for a program, it would be a good time to start doing that.  Of course it took a while before I FELT COMPLETELY COMFORTABLE with my performance, but gradually I got better and better at not having "the jitters", and when they weren't part of my performance any more it was a blessing that brought much enjoyment to me.  And Daddy and Mom were happy that I had progressed well.

In fact our whole family was enjoying this part of our family's activity which involved getting the Marimba safely from place to place.  My two younger brothers looked at that challenge as an admirable way to help our family.  Then it happened.  The phone rang.  And, maybe you guessed it.  My Uncle  Delbert was ready to come and get his precious Merimbaphone back home.  Well.....it had to happen some time....so we watched with tears in our eyes as they loaded it into his truck and headed down the road looking smaller and smaller as it got farther and farther away.

Our sad family put our arms around each other and I decided that "one day I would have my own marimba."

The years went by and I married Wendell Christensen.  We had moved to Brigham City and one December day when my mind had been thinking about playing the Merimbaphone, I said to Wendell, "I sure do miss being able to play my own Marimba."  Wendell smiled that understanding smile of his and gave me a sweet hug that said, "I wish I could get one for you, but..."  We let it go at that.

Christmas was coming fast and we were all busy with the normal preparations.  We bought big Christmas tree from our favorite place on about 10th east in Brigham City where they grew wonderful Christmas trees.  Oh yes, by then we had Five daughters of our own and the rule was, breakfast first, then line up to go into the living room where our majestic tree was, then when daddy gave the signal we all went in to the tree.

This day was no different...EXCEPT FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL MARIMBA-PHONE standing in front of the fireplace.  I was so stunned and happy that I couldn't move a muscle, until Wendell sweetly said something like, "do you like it?"  Well, I can't begin to put into words all that was said to express my joy and gratefulness to my sweetheart.  

Yes, I did play for many programs here in Brigham City - always having to put in in the back of our little trailer or truck - whichever was being driven at the time.  One time when I turned into a parking lot that was on a little upgrade it tilted enough to let my Marimba slide out.  That caused a bit of a panic, but we got it up and inside for the performance.  I vowed never to let that happen again.  And it didn't.

And now it stands in front of the living room window and I am learning to play it again.   It feel so good to have those mallets in my hands going at it again, even though I make lots of errors.  I am getting better as time goes on, Yea!  And I thank Heavenly Father for that.

So, with December just one month away, we say, Merry Christmas, and may yours be as sweet as this true story.

Love to all!,  Grandma Christensen and Peggy Royer, my number one helper with everything except remembering the true story. 

P.S. When you come to visit I'll play for you sometime.


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