We are not amused

Transitioning to one's very first corrective lenses at age 44 is hard on the psyche and hard on the eyes. But transitioning to progressive lenses at the same time is even worse. While I really like the frames I chose and what they do to soften my leonine head, I am not amused at having to look through a straw to see what I want to see. I am not amused that "cutting the eyes" one direction or another now gives them something fuzzy to look at. And I am certainly not amused that music on the rack fishbowls its way around as I turn my head, and that I can't see my hands at all.

This is not good, folks. I am a latecomer to corrective lenses, and I don't expect sympathy from people who have worn glasses since their pre-double-digit years. But I got recitals to play! Help!!

When one goes through a change like this, one notices more things around him. I had never noticed until the past week that a lot of people wear glasses. Apparently, there will always be a need for optometrists. In the wake of my mother's death on March 20 this year, I also know that there will always be a need for funeral directors. Might there always be a similar need for organists as the years go by?

Yesterday, I played the lovely Gabriel Kney organ at St. Luke's Church in Boone, NC. As I listened to the congregation singing with wonderful abandon, I returned to the same thoughts I have had for 20 years every time I play for church:

1. This is so cool. This is fun. They're singing well, and I'm good at this.

2. But I don't think I could ever stand the politics of full-time church work again.

3. I wonder if churches will stop needing organists one of these days? When will this get old to them?

4. I wonder if all those little churches who are finding themselves in the position of having to hire an organist, rather than depend on the sweet, elderly lady who is "retiring," ever be able to pull it off now? More than one church from my past has unplugged the console to make room for more digital and percussion instruments.

Honestly, I think there will always be a place for organists in our churches. If that is no longer true, what might be the last church standing? That is a fascinating question to ponder, but let's hope things never get that far.

Meanwhile, I'll keep subbing in church whenever I can (and as long as I can see music and hands and feet). We can be amused at that, in every good sense of the word.