Something I Miss

I had a hell of a lot of fun in college. In fact, if I were to take a PBT right now, I'm pretty certain that the administrator would detect alcohol leftover in my bloodstream from my senior year of college. But when I wasn't taking heroic chugs of alcohol mixed with lava, chopping down giant redwood trees with one fell swoop of my axe, and herding packs of rhinosceri atop my clydesdale horse, I was kind of a band geek.

It's not like it started in college...I was kind of a band geek from sixth grade on up. There's really no way to describe the level of comraderie and pride involved in mastering an instrument in the confines of an ensemble. Sure, there was alot of hard work...daily rehearsals, sectionals, individual practices, required lessons, but the result was awesome. My college is well known for being a prepping ground for professional musicians so I had to spend my first two years in the "lower ensembles" before I was finally called up to the show my junior year. I'll always remember that first rehearsal with the top ranked ensemble. Words can't describe the professionalism and pride involved in playing for what was essentially a professional touring ensemble. Although I am physically incapable of coming to tears (I was born with nail guns in the place where my tear ducts should be), there were several life-changing moments for me right there in that ensemble resulting simply from a perfect harmony of those 50 or so people coming together. There was a bond amongst us that couldn't possibly come from any other situation.

Nevertheless, after my last concert, I packed up my Freedom Horn (changed from "French" after 9/11) and haven't played since. I ended up kind of committed to this "law" thing and was barred from playing in the undergrad due to my status as a future esquire and undergrad woman hunter. The other week I heard a song on the radio that we had played in one of my first concerts. It brought the St. Paul Cathedral to its feet. I really hadn't realized how much I missed playing in an ensemble. The wave of nostalgia was both incredibly good and incredibly sad at the same time. I guess you could say after my final hurrah in the school's top ensemble, I was ushered out without any fanfare or thanks because I was on the wrong side of one of the biggest scandals the music department had ever seen (much more serious than the typical music department politics). Not that I did anything wrong, I just ended up in the shunned minority opinion. So rather than refelct on the incredible experiences, I told myself "fuck all yall muthafuckas," and walked out the door.

While I still believe I was right, now I know my focus was entirely on the wrong thing. Music can be an incredible bridge between all spheres of humanity. I still get goosebumps upon hearing an old instrumental version of "Nearer my God to Thee." Out of all the cynicism, tragedies and otherwise terrible things going on in the world, the fact that a few variations on pitch and tempo can still do that to a person is a fucking miracle. It may be a little late, but I thank God, John Cusack, or whatever party is responsible for every second I spent in that wind orchestra and hope everyone has the chance to feel that kind of connection at least once in their lives.

Anyone want to go see the orchestra? How about Five for Fighting?