A
friend recently sent me a song that got stuck in my head a while and
brought back so many memories of the man who loved me the most as a
child. My grandpa was an Army veteran, carpenter fisherman, and musician
along with a music teacher......
Some of this post will duplicate an older one I did here but I'm writing again anyway. This version of the song, Dan talks about it. I feel much of what he said about my grandpa too. I'll never measure up but I am passing the tradition. His blood is in all the music his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren have played.
This is for my grandpa.
The first memories I have of you are of fishing, ice cream, root beer floats, the fireplace and the Sir Walter Raleigh pipe tobacco you always had.
Seeing the mayflies all over the sliding screen door on your deck near the lake. Your laugh was contagious. I can still hear it sometimes, despite you've been gone for 22 years tomorrow..... The fireplace always kept me entranced, at least till you got gas years later and no longer burned newspaper. The basement was your "man cave" but so was your workshop that was attached to the basement living area. You loved that area. The smell of sawdust, a hint of your tobacco and basement always lingered.
Christmases were special. There were family dynamics going on I didn't understand then till much later but at least we all got together and enjoyed it. For most of my birthdays or Christmases you got me at least one toy that taught or represented music in one way or another. The toy saxophone at roughly 4 or 5 I think mom found the most annoying. haha Or was it the harmonica when I was three?
As the years went on, we didn't get to see you as much as I wanted but I knew you loved it when we did. I never have forgotten.You never gave up on me, even when everyone else did. You never told me I'd amount to nothing. You never told me I'd wind up a criminal. You never told me I'd always be in prison. You never told me I belonged in psych hospitals for life. You never told me I should be or wished me dead. You never told me I'd be useless to society. You never told me I was too stupid to learn anything. You never told me I should be controlled. You never told me I should have been aborted. You never told me that doping me on pills was the right answer. I don't know if you ever thought any of that, or talked about it when I couldn't hear you but at least you never said anything like that to me or where I could hear it. Thank you for that at least. By you not being like that to my face, I believed you didn't listen to all the lies and hate that so many others in this world gave.
Music, your music....
I never got to hear you play your trombone but I heard the stories. I envision you much like the first pic on this post looking like that playing on it, and especially helping your brass students with their horns. I remember playing on grandma's organ. I remember playing on your piano. Those are fond memories but that's not what I remember the most. After time of playing a game called Professor Piccolo, I wanted to play in the band. I wanted to be like others in the family. I was wanting to play the clarinet. I do remember you said because of the orthodontic work I needed, clarinet was out but you had a flute from your old music store left and I started on that. I really think part of it too was lack of money to get. I still have that old Artley. I only wish now I could get the overhaul done on it and also fix the plating so it looks like what it did when you gave it to me. Years of marching band all but ruined it.....
I was so excited when you gave me that flute from your
music store remains and I began band. It was the summer before 7th
grade. Most kids in my district started in 5th so I had some catching up
to do. I'd have to catch up, in a world that already saw little value
in me. Game on! So that I did. It was one of the best things I could
have ever done, honestly.
Remember me calling you the night after doing my first day in 7th grade band? It was like the second or third day of school because they tried putting me in 5th grade band. I had a mountain to climb to learn in weeks what the other kids did in two years but in time I did it. I called you then too. When I finally mastered the Bb concert scale by memory, could play the version of William Tell we were working on, but I also told you about being told by others in the band how bad I was. You told me to keep going. To focus on the one that did encourage me in my section. To work hard, to practice and I would catch up. So I did. I don't learn the same way others do however, so to get things to "click" I had to see it done, to hear it done, not just read the sheet music. That's what made practicing alone so hard early on, it was easier when I could play along or hear what it should sound like first. In time it got easier but I was still slow to learn.....
Soon after you had me start on this book. I still have it, not because I still need it but because of the memories.
I still have all the letters you wrote me while I was in lockups and group homes, towards the last few years of you being here..... I only wish I wrote you back more, or had the chance to even collect call you like you wished at my last group home, before you passed. Though I was glad for the daytime calls I did when not in school and home alone, even though I didn't realize till later how bad the long distance charges were.....
My last group home, my music world expanded so much there... Our band director was just like you in many ways. He's passed on too you know.... My senior year he did. Yet he saw potential in all students, unlike many teachers I had prior. He had the patience of a saint and never got angry, at least where we could see it. I know I was slow to catch on, with many things, yet once I did, it never left. Even there I was told how stupid I was by some in the band, especially the flute section I was in. The best years of my band life were finally coming and I knew no matter how bad I sucked at whatever, the marching band show couldn’t go on without me because the drill charts as they were called, formations, would not look right with me missing. I remember our section leaders often telling me how bad I was, to not play and march because I marched horrifically and that the girl who had many of the drills right beside me, I caused her foot tendonitis because I marched so bad. Yet if I had stunk so bad, why did we continue to win competitions that year? We had a really good season that year. I was blessed that it was my first year in.
It took me a little longer than most to catch on to marching in time and playing right at the same time. At that point though I honestly did tell all of them to kiss my grits (Not put that nice...) and instead of jumping all over me telling me how stupid I was, how about they help, and have the section leaders act like leaders, not morons. You would have been proud, if you could have been there. They told me to not march and play at the same time, but you know, I did it anyway, despite how stupid they thought I was.
The day we won state in our class division my freshman year..... Such an amazing and nerve-wracking day. Yet the only thing I wished beyond winning was anybody had been there to cheer me on.... Not a soul came... Most performances of mine though, especially once in high school, not a soul was in the crowd for me. I got used to it. That's not why I played though. It's one memory that is there, like it or not......
Auditions for chairs, I got last again. I was last in 7th due to being so new, last in 8th because of coming in mid-year but also because of skill. 9th I got last but it was close. It was that freshman year however that told me I needed to major in music teaching. The band director with his kind, old soul helped that. I finally had something to strive for. Several band pieces to this day, I can't hear without flooding memories of his teaching. First Suite in Eb by Holst to be one. Symphonic Suite by Williams to be another. I didn't do a solo for Solo & Ensemble but I did play in the flute choir. We got division 1 at district and state for that.
It was finally then that the flute section started to accept me.
That next summer, we prepared for marching season again, I was a sophomore and was ready. That was the last summer I saw you alive.... June of 1997 was the last time I got to play for you... I think you knew it was your last time getting to hear me. It didn't register when you gave me my final music lesson till after you passed, that you knew..... The tears in your eyes as you told me I had come so far in the so few years I had been playing..... Your words encouraged me, they game me fight, the will to stay at it and to persevere. I only wish I called and wrote you more often, even as the group home allowed it. Your heart just gave out not long after.
I just wanted more time. One more "I love you." One more lesson, one more float, one more day of fishing on the lake..... Just one more..... I don't think you truly know how much the odds were stacked against me from day one. So few saw any worth, value or purpose in my existence. Those who were supposed to love and teach instead showed apathy, disdain and sometimes hate. No lie..... You were a bright candle in my dark world. I cherished the visits with you, even though they were too far apart and too short. Far too little time..... What you don't know is despite the depression I had been in when I started music, despite seeing no value in myself back then whatsoever, you introducing me to music saved me..... It saved me because it showed me I could be good at something. Even if it was the only thing.... (At that time, it pretty much was!) The depression and wanting to die almost won but it didn't...... You saved me from myself, though it took a little while to see it....
At the funeral I remember putting some snapdragons on your tiny casket that held your urn. It was a rainy day. I just wanted more time......
The first day back to school after your funeral was sooooo hard..... I heard several condolences that day. That morning before school when we had early marching practice, putting that Artley flute together for the first time after you died had ripped my heart out because you would never hear it again... What touched me the most was our director hugging me and saying that I didn't have to play or march that day if I didn't want to. I chose to anyway. That day on the blacktop going over drills and learning the last of the new charts, I saw a brilliant sundog. I knew you were with me. As tears rolled down my face in that moment, it showed me you were still there and now you could hear every note I played, good or not. Playing that day was hard but I did it. Two months later, we went to state again but did not win this time. Solo & Ensemble that year I did my first solo. I got a second division by one point.... One point from first division... I didn't care. It was the first solo that I knew you could hear and given how I was really close to a first division, I took it. Playing three years and I did that accomplishment. I also was no longer last chair!
Soon after, I had to transfer schools again. That was a little rough but I was ready to keep going with music. I also got private lessons again, paid myself and also paid for an intermediate flute. Paid that off. I sure loved that Artley but it was really in disrepair and starting to hinder me..... Junior year I marched piccolo for the first time. Really enjoyed that. Concert season I got third chair in the second band, about the middle compared to all the flutes at this school. Big progress but I was bound to really hit it with Solo & Ensemble again. Went into the hardest division this time and got a second division rank on my solo. Messed up with the piano part along with anxiety got in my way, that was the only thing that got in my way of State. Senior year we got 9th at State marching band, heard about the passing of my first high school director at the first competition that year.That first competition I dedicated to him.
Grandpa, had you known that director I had, I think you two would have been best friends..... Senior year also brought the end of not just school but of dreams....
I again knew my solo that year would be heard by you, and also it would be the last of S&E, at least for high school level. (Link would be movement 3 and 4 I did. No that woman is not me.) I got a first division at State. I was sooooo proud of that. I also got third chair, first band. I was happy. First part, no piccolo, no solos. Just as I wanted.
Then the flute lessons stopped. They stopped because the dreams for teaching music died.... She refused to keep seeing me if I wasn't going to college for music. That year I was told I wasn't smart enough for scholarships, didn't qualify for grants, and despite working almost full time hours and doing school full time, no way I could pay for college by myself so music education died.... I couldn't afford it... I cried, which I know you saw.... I cried because I failed. I failed to dream good enough, to be good enough, to keep my promise......
Even when I did start college, it was hard to keep up. Working full time hours, keeping up with all the chores/housework I was responsible for both living at home and when I got on my own and full time college was rough. I know you were proud when I graduated community college though, especially top third of all of that community college combined campuses.
See, I wasn't as stupid as everyone made me out to be. I would have loved to see all of those who said I would be a nobody, dead, prison, psych wards and more to do what I did AND survive all I did. Though, you wouldn't have agreed to me doing it, the huge desire to throw that in the faces of soooo many would have been so sweet tasting.....
After high school, the Armstrong flute mostly collected dust for nearly six years. Then came playing at church. First Sunday there I was sooooo nervous, despite not being the only flute player there. At one time for a while there was four of us. I gave up the piccolo forever after a mishap of attempting to play a piccolo part for one of the other flautists because she was late. That happened after I'd been in around a year. The embarrassment of that and being called out, I chickened out and quit that. Before that, it had been several years since I picked that piccolo of mine up. I could have used a pep talk that rehearsal day from you.....
It wasn't long before I became the only flute player on stage most Sunday's. I learned to embrace it, because I could adjust the sheet music to sound good yet not overpowered by the small ensemble size. Sometimes I'm the only flute player up there and sometimes I'm not, but usually it's just me. I had seasons when I was out, especially time after the kids were born but I've stuck with it. Almost 14 years completed there now and still going. Though I admit I still get timid with solo stuff. I still remember a former player's daughter told mine not very long ago that they left the stage because of how bad I suck playing. That made me somewhat want to leave honestly. That was another day I wish I could have called you. Another pep talk..... It was obvious to me that I wasn't good enough. I rallied though.
Almost a decade after high school and near Christmas of 2008 I was able to replace the Armstrong flute I bought myself, and join community band as well. It took me a little getting used to the Yahama flute I upgraded to but I did it. The first night in community band, I was so nervous, last chair or not, I was. I had not played with a group like this in years.... I've been in that band just over a decade now. Hard to believe I started in there that long ago.... I was second to last chair with flute and am last chair with clarinet. However that clarinet I always have wanted to learn, I have been playing a year now. Amazing with everything that I have done a few concerts with it already.
As much as I still wish I could see you and hear you, You have shown me through sundogs, red cardinals on every single outdoor training run and most recently mayflies that you are here. Yes, I saw mayflies nowhere near water less than a month ago. There were more than I got in this pic but not as many as I would see around the lake. Or in Louisville when I visited in 2011. I couldn't believe it. Yet it was a sign......
It was that day my friend sent me Leader of the Band..... What gave me chills on the live version I shared on the start of this post was two things. That his papa was a band director for kids like my grandpa and his papa died in the year I was born.
I know since you died grandpa, you've not missed any concert of mine, any church service I've played in nor those "big" performances. I know you would tell me to keep going, to keep practicing and to play, not for everyone else but for myself and for God. And that I will..... One thing you used to say to me that I also have told my children is this:
May I teach my children the same. They are also the reason I keep going with music. What am I teaching them if I give up, or if I don't take a chance?
This saying I could hear coming from you too.....
Thank you grandpa for never giving up on me. Thank you for being a rare one who didn't. I will see you again. I look forward to the day I play in Heaven. The baton is being passed down to my children. Your great granddaughter is in her second year of band with trumpet and your great grandson has said he wants to learn trumpet too at the young age of five.
I just wish I had had more time..... I wish I had better used that time.... I have many regrets in my life and that is one. One thing I was reminded of though today was this: I have given my children a far better life than I ever had. Through all of my hurts, soapbox sermons, habits, and hangups, they already have it better than I did. I just wish you were here to show them your influence that you had on me.
When my eyes grow old, when my time comes to hear my children and maybe grandchildren play their instruments for the last time, may I feel your presence. The joy and pride you will have on every concert done, every solo done, and even every practice no matter how good or bad it is. May I continue to see signs from you that you have not left me in spirit.
Thank you for being the leader of the band....... I love you and miss you.... I wish you could be here for your great grandchildren's concerts......
Your granddaughter...
----------------------------------------------
For my grandpa, the one who loved me, I share these lyrics for him.
The leader of the band is tired
And his eyes are growing old
But his blood runs through
My instrument
And his song is in my soul --
My life has been a poor attempt
To imitate the man
I'm just a living legacy
To the leader of the band
I am the living legacy
To the leader of the band.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
~ Special Momma ~
Some of this post will duplicate an older one I did here but I'm writing again anyway. This version of the song, Dan talks about it. I feel much of what he said about my grandpa too. I'll never measure up but I am passing the tradition. His blood is in all the music his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren have played.
This is for my grandpa.
The first memories I have of you are of fishing, ice cream, root beer floats, the fireplace and the Sir Walter Raleigh pipe tobacco you always had.
Seeing the mayflies all over the sliding screen door on your deck near the lake. Your laugh was contagious. I can still hear it sometimes, despite you've been gone for 22 years tomorrow..... The fireplace always kept me entranced, at least till you got gas years later and no longer burned newspaper. The basement was your "man cave" but so was your workshop that was attached to the basement living area. You loved that area. The smell of sawdust, a hint of your tobacco and basement always lingered.
Christmases were special. There were family dynamics going on I didn't understand then till much later but at least we all got together and enjoyed it. For most of my birthdays or Christmases you got me at least one toy that taught or represented music in one way or another. The toy saxophone at roughly 4 or 5 I think mom found the most annoying. haha Or was it the harmonica when I was three?
As the years went on, we didn't get to see you as much as I wanted but I knew you loved it when we did. I never have forgotten.You never gave up on me, even when everyone else did. You never told me I'd amount to nothing. You never told me I'd wind up a criminal. You never told me I'd always be in prison. You never told me I belonged in psych hospitals for life. You never told me I should be or wished me dead. You never told me I'd be useless to society. You never told me I was too stupid to learn anything. You never told me I should be controlled. You never told me I should have been aborted. You never told me that doping me on pills was the right answer. I don't know if you ever thought any of that, or talked about it when I couldn't hear you but at least you never said anything like that to me or where I could hear it. Thank you for that at least. By you not being like that to my face, I believed you didn't listen to all the lies and hate that so many others in this world gave.
Music, your music....
I never got to hear you play your trombone but I heard the stories. I envision you much like the first pic on this post looking like that playing on it, and especially helping your brass students with their horns. I remember playing on grandma's organ. I remember playing on your piano. Those are fond memories but that's not what I remember the most. After time of playing a game called Professor Piccolo, I wanted to play in the band. I wanted to be like others in the family. I was wanting to play the clarinet. I do remember you said because of the orthodontic work I needed, clarinet was out but you had a flute from your old music store left and I started on that. I really think part of it too was lack of money to get. I still have that old Artley. I only wish now I could get the overhaul done on it and also fix the plating so it looks like what it did when you gave it to me. Years of marching band all but ruined it.....
Remember me calling you the night after doing my first day in 7th grade band? It was like the second or third day of school because they tried putting me in 5th grade band. I had a mountain to climb to learn in weeks what the other kids did in two years but in time I did it. I called you then too. When I finally mastered the Bb concert scale by memory, could play the version of William Tell we were working on, but I also told you about being told by others in the band how bad I was. You told me to keep going. To focus on the one that did encourage me in my section. To work hard, to practice and I would catch up. So I did. I don't learn the same way others do however, so to get things to "click" I had to see it done, to hear it done, not just read the sheet music. That's what made practicing alone so hard early on, it was easier when I could play along or hear what it should sound like first. In time it got easier but I was still slow to learn.....
Soon after you had me start on this book. I still have it, not because I still need it but because of the memories.
I still have all the letters you wrote me while I was in lockups and group homes, towards the last few years of you being here..... I only wish I wrote you back more, or had the chance to even collect call you like you wished at my last group home, before you passed. Though I was glad for the daytime calls I did when not in school and home alone, even though I didn't realize till later how bad the long distance charges were.....
My last group home, my music world expanded so much there... Our band director was just like you in many ways. He's passed on too you know.... My senior year he did. Yet he saw potential in all students, unlike many teachers I had prior. He had the patience of a saint and never got angry, at least where we could see it. I know I was slow to catch on, with many things, yet once I did, it never left. Even there I was told how stupid I was by some in the band, especially the flute section I was in. The best years of my band life were finally coming and I knew no matter how bad I sucked at whatever, the marching band show couldn’t go on without me because the drill charts as they were called, formations, would not look right with me missing. I remember our section leaders often telling me how bad I was, to not play and march because I marched horrifically and that the girl who had many of the drills right beside me, I caused her foot tendonitis because I marched so bad. Yet if I had stunk so bad, why did we continue to win competitions that year? We had a really good season that year. I was blessed that it was my first year in.
It took me a little longer than most to catch on to marching in time and playing right at the same time. At that point though I honestly did tell all of them to kiss my grits (Not put that nice...) and instead of jumping all over me telling me how stupid I was, how about they help, and have the section leaders act like leaders, not morons. You would have been proud, if you could have been there. They told me to not march and play at the same time, but you know, I did it anyway, despite how stupid they thought I was.
The day we won state in our class division my freshman year..... Such an amazing and nerve-wracking day. Yet the only thing I wished beyond winning was anybody had been there to cheer me on.... Not a soul came... Most performances of mine though, especially once in high school, not a soul was in the crowd for me. I got used to it. That's not why I played though. It's one memory that is there, like it or not......
Auditions for chairs, I got last again. I was last in 7th due to being so new, last in 8th because of coming in mid-year but also because of skill. 9th I got last but it was close. It was that freshman year however that told me I needed to major in music teaching. The band director with his kind, old soul helped that. I finally had something to strive for. Several band pieces to this day, I can't hear without flooding memories of his teaching. First Suite in Eb by Holst to be one. Symphonic Suite by Williams to be another. I didn't do a solo for Solo & Ensemble but I did play in the flute choir. We got division 1 at district and state for that.
It was finally then that the flute section started to accept me.
That next summer, we prepared for marching season again, I was a sophomore and was ready. That was the last summer I saw you alive.... June of 1997 was the last time I got to play for you... I think you knew it was your last time getting to hear me. It didn't register when you gave me my final music lesson till after you passed, that you knew..... The tears in your eyes as you told me I had come so far in the so few years I had been playing..... Your words encouraged me, they game me fight, the will to stay at it and to persevere. I only wish I called and wrote you more often, even as the group home allowed it. Your heart just gave out not long after.
I just wanted more time. One more "I love you." One more lesson, one more float, one more day of fishing on the lake..... Just one more..... I don't think you truly know how much the odds were stacked against me from day one. So few saw any worth, value or purpose in my existence. Those who were supposed to love and teach instead showed apathy, disdain and sometimes hate. No lie..... You were a bright candle in my dark world. I cherished the visits with you, even though they were too far apart and too short. Far too little time..... What you don't know is despite the depression I had been in when I started music, despite seeing no value in myself back then whatsoever, you introducing me to music saved me..... It saved me because it showed me I could be good at something. Even if it was the only thing.... (At that time, it pretty much was!) The depression and wanting to die almost won but it didn't...... You saved me from myself, though it took a little while to see it....
At the funeral I remember putting some snapdragons on your tiny casket that held your urn. It was a rainy day. I just wanted more time......
The first day back to school after your funeral was sooooo hard..... I heard several condolences that day. That morning before school when we had early marching practice, putting that Artley flute together for the first time after you died had ripped my heart out because you would never hear it again... What touched me the most was our director hugging me and saying that I didn't have to play or march that day if I didn't want to. I chose to anyway. That day on the blacktop going over drills and learning the last of the new charts, I saw a brilliant sundog. I knew you were with me. As tears rolled down my face in that moment, it showed me you were still there and now you could hear every note I played, good or not. Playing that day was hard but I did it. Two months later, we went to state again but did not win this time. Solo & Ensemble that year I did my first solo. I got a second division by one point.... One point from first division... I didn't care. It was the first solo that I knew you could hear and given how I was really close to a first division, I took it. Playing three years and I did that accomplishment. I also was no longer last chair!
Soon after, I had to transfer schools again. That was a little rough but I was ready to keep going with music. I also got private lessons again, paid myself and also paid for an intermediate flute. Paid that off. I sure loved that Artley but it was really in disrepair and starting to hinder me..... Junior year I marched piccolo for the first time. Really enjoyed that. Concert season I got third chair in the second band, about the middle compared to all the flutes at this school. Big progress but I was bound to really hit it with Solo & Ensemble again. Went into the hardest division this time and got a second division rank on my solo. Messed up with the piano part along with anxiety got in my way, that was the only thing that got in my way of State. Senior year we got 9th at State marching band, heard about the passing of my first high school director at the first competition that year.That first competition I dedicated to him.
Grandpa, had you known that director I had, I think you two would have been best friends..... Senior year also brought the end of not just school but of dreams....
I again knew my solo that year would be heard by you, and also it would be the last of S&E, at least for high school level. (Link would be movement 3 and 4 I did. No that woman is not me.) I got a first division at State. I was sooooo proud of that. I also got third chair, first band. I was happy. First part, no piccolo, no solos. Just as I wanted.
Then the flute lessons stopped. They stopped because the dreams for teaching music died.... She refused to keep seeing me if I wasn't going to college for music. That year I was told I wasn't smart enough for scholarships, didn't qualify for grants, and despite working almost full time hours and doing school full time, no way I could pay for college by myself so music education died.... I couldn't afford it... I cried, which I know you saw.... I cried because I failed. I failed to dream good enough, to be good enough, to keep my promise......
Even when I did start college, it was hard to keep up. Working full time hours, keeping up with all the chores/housework I was responsible for both living at home and when I got on my own and full time college was rough. I know you were proud when I graduated community college though, especially top third of all of that community college combined campuses.
See, I wasn't as stupid as everyone made me out to be. I would have loved to see all of those who said I would be a nobody, dead, prison, psych wards and more to do what I did AND survive all I did. Though, you wouldn't have agreed to me doing it, the huge desire to throw that in the faces of soooo many would have been so sweet tasting.....
After high school, the Armstrong flute mostly collected dust for nearly six years. Then came playing at church. First Sunday there I was sooooo nervous, despite not being the only flute player there. At one time for a while there was four of us. I gave up the piccolo forever after a mishap of attempting to play a piccolo part for one of the other flautists because she was late. That happened after I'd been in around a year. The embarrassment of that and being called out, I chickened out and quit that. Before that, it had been several years since I picked that piccolo of mine up. I could have used a pep talk that rehearsal day from you.....
It wasn't long before I became the only flute player on stage most Sunday's. I learned to embrace it, because I could adjust the sheet music to sound good yet not overpowered by the small ensemble size. Sometimes I'm the only flute player up there and sometimes I'm not, but usually it's just me. I had seasons when I was out, especially time after the kids were born but I've stuck with it. Almost 14 years completed there now and still going. Though I admit I still get timid with solo stuff. I still remember a former player's daughter told mine not very long ago that they left the stage because of how bad I suck playing. That made me somewhat want to leave honestly. That was another day I wish I could have called you. Another pep talk..... It was obvious to me that I wasn't good enough. I rallied though.
Almost a decade after high school and near Christmas of 2008 I was able to replace the Armstrong flute I bought myself, and join community band as well. It took me a little getting used to the Yahama flute I upgraded to but I did it. The first night in community band, I was so nervous, last chair or not, I was. I had not played with a group like this in years.... I've been in that band just over a decade now. Hard to believe I started in there that long ago.... I was second to last chair with flute and am last chair with clarinet. However that clarinet I always have wanted to learn, I have been playing a year now. Amazing with everything that I have done a few concerts with it already.
I learned long ago that first, second or third part
isn't as big of a deal as it is just getting to play and enjoy music.
As much as I still wish I could see you and hear you, You have shown me through sundogs, red cardinals on every single outdoor training run and most recently mayflies that you are here. Yes, I saw mayflies nowhere near water less than a month ago. There were more than I got in this pic but not as many as I would see around the lake. Or in Louisville when I visited in 2011. I couldn't believe it. Yet it was a sign......
It was that day my friend sent me Leader of the Band..... What gave me chills on the live version I shared on the start of this post was two things. That his papa was a band director for kids like my grandpa and his papa died in the year I was born.
I know since you died grandpa, you've not missed any concert of mine, any church service I've played in nor those "big" performances. I know you would tell me to keep going, to keep practicing and to play, not for everyone else but for myself and for God. And that I will..... One thing you used to say to me that I also have told my children is this:
"It's not about how good you are, but how good you feel playing."
May I teach my children the same. They are also the reason I keep going with music. What am I teaching them if I give up, or if I don't take a chance?
This saying I could hear coming from you too.....
Thank you grandpa for never giving up on me. Thank you for being a rare one who didn't. I will see you again. I look forward to the day I play in Heaven. The baton is being passed down to my children. Your great granddaughter is in her second year of band with trumpet and your great grandson has said he wants to learn trumpet too at the young age of five.
I just wish I had had more time..... I wish I had better used that time.... I have many regrets in my life and that is one. One thing I was reminded of though today was this: I have given my children a far better life than I ever had. Through all of my hurts, soapbox sermons, habits, and hangups, they already have it better than I did. I just wish you were here to show them your influence that you had on me.
When my eyes grow old, when my time comes to hear my children and maybe grandchildren play their instruments for the last time, may I feel your presence. The joy and pride you will have on every concert done, every solo done, and even every practice no matter how good or bad it is. May I continue to see signs from you that you have not left me in spirit.
Thank you for being the leader of the band....... I love you and miss you.... I wish you could be here for your great grandchildren's concerts......
Your granddaughter...
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For my grandpa, the one who loved me, I share these lyrics for him.
The leader of the band is tired
And his eyes are growing old
But his blood runs through
My instrument
And his song is in my soul --
My life has been a poor attempt
To imitate the man
I'm just a living legacy
To the leader of the band
I am the living legacy
To the leader of the band.
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~ Special Momma ~
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