Humorous stories of stand partners gone by....

Over the years I've had many stand partners.

For those unfamiliar with the term, a stand partner is the person who sits next to you during rehearsals and concerts in an orchestra.

The funny thing about stand partners is that they're usually a surprise. You don't know who you'll be sitting next to until the first rehearsal.

On a good day you're paired with someone you like and get along with. On a bad day, you're seated next to someone who outplays you by a mile...or someone you just kind of hate.

Welp.

Too bad.

You're stuck with them.

I'll never forget my very first orchestra rehearsal when I was about thirteen. I was seated next to the cutest guy...and he knew how to read music effortlessly.

Meanwhile, I was fumbling around so badly I couldn't even count quarter notes.

Right there in rehearsal he quietly pulled out his pencil and started teaching me.

I was mortified.

I remember crying while putting my violin away afterward.

"I'll show him," I thought.

I went home and practiced like my life depended on it. Bob would never get the best of me again. I would learn to read music. And eventually...out of sheer spite I did. Almost overnight as I recall.

My favorite stand partner, though, has always been my sister Anne. Anne knows me musically—and honestly just in general—better than anyone else on God's green earth.

It's almost annoying.

There is truly nothing the two of us can't conquer together! Over the years we've played somewhere around one hundred weddings, countless Masses, countless Mankato Symphony concerts, All State Orchestra...

My goodness--just so many things! If there was music involved, chances are we were doing it together.

Side by side.

There are two things I especially love about sharing a stand with Anne.

The first is that we have occasionally put music on our stand purely for appearances while secretly playing the entire thing by memory. Everyone around us thinks we're diligently reading every note.

Meanwhile...we're just pretending. We don't need the music--we know it already. We still do this sometimes, and I'm not going to lie—it still makes us feel pretty cool.

Another hilarious part of playing music with my sister is even funnier.

Whenever Anne wants the melody, she'll simply make a small head nod in my general direction with a little smile. That's my cue to play harmony while she takes the melody.

This system works beautifully...until literally anybody else in the group has the melody.

Because Anne and I are psychic as far as how in tune (literally) we are with one another musically—whether we're singing together or playing violin and cello—nine times out of ten we'll both invent the exact same harmony at the exact same moment.

I cannot tell you how many times this has happened. Thousands at this point.

Then comes what I affectionally have labeled, "The Anne Glare."

The Anne Glare means I've "stolen" her harmony notes.

Translation: I'm the one who has to change my note choice.

Naturally.

But I've long accepted that Anne is the musical director of our relationship. She wants the job, and honestly I'm just happy to be there. Thank goodness someone gives a f*** about the minute details, cause it certainly isn't going to be me. I just literally don't want to work. I just want to have fun and relax for 5 seconds. Leave me alone!

So, obediently I quickly hunt for a different harmony line and silently pray she approves.

Sometimes she does.

Usually I get another glare.

Another core memory---

Growing up, Anne also learned she had to keep one eye on me during wedding ceremonies.

Without fail, the bride and groom would finally kiss, and I'd become completely enthralled, as if I'm watching my favorite rom com or something. Suddenly, I'm the bride. I'm imagining it all.....

(My family long ago affectionately coined the term, "Maryland" to describe this little disassociation I would always do lol) In Maryland I totally forget what I'm supposed to be doing. Which, in this case, is the very thing that is supposed to make the scenario even MORE romantic if I wasn't daydreaming....

This happened at so many weddings despite my very best intentions.

The kiss would start and I'm drooling over my violin dreamily....

Then I'd hear...

"MARY!!"

I'd look over to find Anne giving me one of those looks while simultaneously jabbing me in the elbow with her bow.

Back to Earth I'd come.

Bow up.

Recessional.

Every. Single. Time.

It happened so often that at Michael's and my wedding reception, Anne actually told the entire story during her speech.

I spent most of her Maid of Honor speech trying to imagine I was underneath the table.

Lately I've been thinking that life feels a little like orchestra seat placement.

Each of us is given stand partners throughout our lives.

Sometimes it's a spouse.

Sometimes it's a sibling.

Sometimes it's a best friend.

Sometimes it's someone who only walks beside us for a season.

Rarely do we get to choose them; we simply show up to rehearsal and discover who's sitting next to us.

Sometimes we're thrilled.

Sometimes we're disappointed.

Sometimes we wonder why on earth God picked this person.

But every day is another rehearsal.

Another opportunity to make music with the person beside us.

If we're willing to accept our seat placement—to help each other through the difficult rhythms, impossible shifts, and missed notes—the orchestra sounds just a little more beautiful because we played together.

And maybe that's the point.

None of us were ever meant to play alone.