Organ in Pieces

I’m sorry to confess that I went to the first 2015 Vespers service yesterday with a large nugget of anger in my heart. Despite Reverend Dean Mead’s message of love and forgiveness, despite the wonderful program by the Presbyterian Choir, and despite Sandy Nielson’s sure hands and feet on the pump organ, that lump of negativity did not disperse. Nor do I care. There is a place in this world for righteous anger and yesterday the place for me was in our historic Oysterville Church.

Since last fall we have hoped against hope that our vintage pump organ – the instrument that has been used traditionally to play the old-fashioned hymns at Vespers – would again be able to provide the accompaniment to the congregational singing. Yes, there is also a piano at the church, but it is the organ (purchased new for $25 by the women of Oysterville in the 1930s) that we’ve been worried about. Over the years it has become increasingly difficult to play and for more than twenty years we’ve looked for someone to give it a tune-up.

Empty Organ Cabinet

The story is always the same. “Yes, I work on organs. Pipe organs. They are completely different from pump organs. Sorry.” Our volunteer organists have labored on, pumping away with few complaints but it hasn’t been easy.

Last year we used a substitute organ. Same general vintage, but in better shape we hoped. NOT! And then a friend of a friend found someone in Portland! Hooray! Our hopes soared. At the end of March he arrived, wouldn’t name a price, dismantled our old organ, pronounced it “in excellent shape” for its years, and went back to the big city to order new felts that he said weren’t really needed but as long as we were into it… He promised to come back forthwith to put the organ back together and in good working order.

Pump Organ in Better Days

But, like Charlie on the MTA, he has never returned. We have telephoned; we have emailed; we have even received responses but no firm date and no reason for the interminable delay. So, yesterday, as I watched and listened to Sandra playing the cranky substitute organ with her usual calm demeanor, making it all look easy and sound fine, my anger solidified.

All those quippy clichés like “you get what you pay for” and “don’t look a gift horse in the mouth”  and “never count on others” rattled around in my head. Anger prevailed and is still prevailing. It may prevail forever – mostly because last night we got an email from that friend of a friend saying that she had seen said recalcitrant repairman and he sure is planning to get here soon. “No thank you” was my reply. Should’ve said that in the first place and saved ourselves a lot of angst!

On to Plan B…