I don't know what possessed me to buy that darn thing!
     After 3 years in business, with 4 used accordions in my music store
already, and not a single nibble on them, let alone a sale, it had to be
the stupidest thing to buy.
     I couldn't say "no" to a friend, especially when she saw the others
and knew I "dealt" in used accordions.
     It was, however, a beauty.  The case was immaculate.  The color was a
vivid lipstick red with white trim.  It was also smaller than the three big
black 120 bass models that I had and larger than the less-than-perfect
child sized instrument.
     It was also not a "wise" business decision.  I paid more for it than I
should, considering that I really "ought" to make a profit.  Otherwise, how
do I pay the rent?  Juanita needed the money and, as I said, she was a
friend.
     Admittedly, I bought it because it appealed to me.
     So I polished off the fingerprints and set it inside the showcase
visible from the sidewalk in front of my store.  At Christmas time I tucked
a couple ornaments around it and at Valentine's Day I draped a wide ribbon
around it and tucked a couple hearts into the bow.  By October I'd
relocated it twice... but there that red accordion sat!
     It was a full year before that white haired lady came into my store.
     She couldn't have weighed much more than 100 pounds, and she had an
obvious curve to her back, but what struck me was how full of energy she
was.  As she entered, followed by a friend who drove her, she exclaimed, "I
always check out music stores... I love them."  Then her eyes fell upon the
red accordion.
     "Can I try it?" she asked.
     "Of course," I replied, squatting down and opening the case.  She took
off her lipstick red coat and handed it and her purse to her companion.
The accordion matched perfectly with her red wool skirt and silk scarf
around the neck of her snow white blouse.  If anyone was dressed for
playing it, she was.
     And could she play!  First it was an old timey waltz, then a polka.  A
local teenager came in and after the fourth tune, said, "Wow, wheredja
learn to play like that?"
     "I've been playing since I was about 10... hmm, I guess that's almost
70 years... "
     Then the dreamy look in her eyes told me she was far away as she
shifted into a slow song, a love song.
     "I haven't played much now for the last two years.  My doctor won't
let me," she blurted out. "I'm not suppose to play at ALL, but I do a
little."
     "Oh?" I questioned, but didn't want to pry.  "You play so well, so
effortlessly."
     "Osteoporosis" she said matter of factly.  "My bones are not too good
these days and my 120 bass is just too heavy," she says.  Her eyes
twinkled, but I heard a whispered word of derision.
     Ten minutes later, the Lady in Red owned the red accordion.
     "My granddaughter has always wanted to learn to play, too," she said.
"Now, I can give her my 120 bass for Christmas, and be able to give her
lessons, too."  She leaned toward me and whispered, "I just couldn't bring
myself to give it to her yet.  Is that being selfish?"
     I thought not, knowing the pleasure I saw in her eyes when she played.
     "By the way, dearie," she began again, "Where's the Josephine Sunset
Rest Home?  We're from out of town and we're lost."
     I gave the directions and marveled that just one wrong turn enabled
the Lady in Red and the beautiful red accordion to come together.
     Maybe I bought that red accordion for her all along.  It was certainly
the right match and some things are just "meant to be".

              -- Pamela Kristy Barton       <hmc@whidbey.net>