A MUSICIAN’S TALE OF WOE
By An Anonymous Contributor
As a bagpiper, I play many gigs. Recently I was asked by a funeral director to play at a grave side service for a homeless man. He had no family or friends, so the service was to be at a pauper’s cemetery in the Kentucky back-country.
As I was not familiar with the backwoods, I got lost—and being a typical man I didn’t stop for directions. I finally arrived an hour late and saw the funeral guy had evidently gone and the hearse was nowhere in sight. There were only the diggers and crew left and they were eating lunch. I felt badly and apologized to the men for being late.
I went to the side of the grave and looked down and the vault lid was already in place. I didn’t know what else to do, so I started to play. The workers put down their lunches and began to gather around.
I played out my heart and soul for this man with no family and friends. I played like I’ve never played before for this homeless man. And as I played “Amazing Grace,” the workers began to weep. They wept, I wept, we all wept together. When I finished, I packed up my bagpipes and started for my car.
Though my head hung low, my heart was full. As I was opening the door to my car, I heard one of the workers say “I never seen nothin’ like that before, and I’ve been putting in septic tanks for 20 years.”
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