In which the Aspirant pretends to be the Organist

I used to play the organ pretty regularly. I was never terribly good -- I'm a good pianist, but I never worked hard enough to become a good organist -- but I was good enough to play for Sunday services in a small parish. I even managed to supplement my income throughout graduate school by playing for weddings and funerals. By the time I got my Ph.D., I was making more money playing the organ than I made from my teaching assistantship.

But since that time I've been in parishes with real musicians. My current parish has not only a full-time musician on staff but several parishioners who are members of the American Guild of Organists, including the wonderfully talented organ professor at the University. So there hasn't been much call for my meager skills. Today, however, I'm on deck. Our organist is on a much-deserved vacation, and somehow I ended up being his sub. When I started practicing in earnest over a week ago, I was startled by how much my skills had degraded. The big Bach piece I had chosen as a prelude, which used to be comfortably in my fingers, showed a tendency to fall apart in several places. A couple of the hymns had rather acrobatic pedal lines that utterly defeated me, so that I was producing random honks and wincing uncontrollably.

Thankfully, things are much better now. If I play as well today as I did in practice yesterday, I'll be pleased. It's not perfection, but it's far from embarrassing. Today is the last Sunday for our much-loved assistant, and I would at least like to do a creditable job for his sake.