A Sesquicentennial Mistake

I was just a tad over thirty years of age and knew more than most when the Talbotton United Methodist Church celebrated its sesquicentennial year.  It was a Sunday which caused this young preacher to be so full of himself as not being able to see clearly.  It was an auspicious day, a day when a plaque was placed on the grounds declaring the church a historical site in the South Georgia Annual Conference, and a day when Bishop William R. Cannon came to preach.  It was also the day Felder Spivey was not allowed to play his trumpet in the worship service.    

It is strange the things remembered.  Felder often provided special music in worship in the church, but not on this Sunday about impressing the world.  Felder was old.  He could have been old enough to remember the first of those 150 years and so when he played it was less than perfect.  He lacked the wind he once had and sometimes his notes sounded a bit off key and a little wet, but it was good enough for normal times.  But, when the Bishop came, those of us who knew best told Felder it was not a good day for him to play his trumpet.   

Strange, that what I remember most was my biggest mistake.  Actually, it was more than a mistake.  It spoke of failure.  The old man who remembers now knows that the old trumpet player should have had his moment to give what he had to give to the day.  He was us.  We were all flawed in what we were doing, but we just could not see it then.  He represented the whole of us in a way that spoke of both its past and its present.  Felder has long since gone to the place where trumpet players are welcomed.  Somehow I wish he were still around to tell him my ego made a big mistake and ask for his forgiveness.