I know this blog is about my artful endeavors, but before I entered into the world of visual art, I was, and always will be, a musician. But before that, I wanted to be a teacher.
I remember "playing teacher" when I was a little girl - I'd have my stuffed animals all lined up and would teach lessons to them on all manner of subjects - writing, reading, math. I remember loving to spend time at that endeavor. Then, one day a piano was unloaded at our front door - **BLISS** - I'd only been able to 'play' the piano at my aunt's house. Every time we visited, I'd slip away and sit at the bench literally for hours. Then
my piano arrived. It changed my life.
That and the clarinet that arrived. Year by year, by skills grew, and the instrument collection grew. Then someone needed a lesson on bassoon. I'll do it. I was hooked. I was actually good at this! They got better at the bassoon when I helped them. Wow!
To college, where it was cemented - this was a path that I didn't just want to go on, I
had to go down this path. I'd had time to let this path mature enough to know that it was destiny. But more importantly, to feel complete, it was what I had to do.
Fast forward a couple of years, when I started my second job here at the school system where I am now. I met a young man, who, at that time was in the 7th grade. A bright trumpet player, who was in a class full of aspiring musicians - all of whom have gone on to make a career of music. This trumpet player, too, followed that path, and has been an inspiring musician in the L.A. area.
I got the chance to talk to him in late August - a fund raiser for our local historical museum. He was there. It was the first time, I believe, I've had a chance to talk to him, perhaps since he graduated from high school. I've kept up with his career through his mother & sister, them telling me occasionally of his latest gigs. We had a wonderful conversation - long, funny, no holes barred. I really loved the conversation we had. I didn't want it to end, but I knew he was getting tired. He had cancer.
Today, I got the phone call I dreaded. His sister told me he had died. I'll always treasure that conversation - the time he spent with me that day. I don't think either of us wanted to stop talking, but we knew we had to. We laughed, we talked frankly, we didn't cry - I didn't want to spend my time with him that way.
I've spoken to many students about him over the years - told them that he had followed his dreams of being a professional musician. Told them that he had set his course and then followed it. I got the chance to tell him that during our conversation - I knew he needed to hear it. I told him I was proud of him. I meant it. I think I'll tell his story to my high school class tomorrow. And remind my students of the value of living every day, fully, purposefully.
I don't know where the road leads - Mike & I talk often about "this crazy life we lead," and how when we get up in the morning, often we don't know quite what will happen, who we will meet, or what the day will bring. I don't know a lot of things, but I do know that our interactions with one another are more important than anything else. I'll continue on this path, this destiny, this purpose, because it seems like the right thing to do. But today, I take a moment and remember another man of purpose whose life ended far too soon.
