The life-saving power of concert band music.

My life was saved today by John Zdeclik.

I’ll explain.

I had a rough night last night. Stayed at my fiancee’s house last night - it was too tired and it was too difficult for me to drive the ten miles home. She has an old recliner in her room for this very situation, knowing I can’t sleep meaningfully on a bed any more. Well, it’s turning out I can’t sleep meaningfully in that old recliner any more, either. Battled it all night - different configurations of pillows, prayers, you name it. Finally got a couple hours at 4 am; alarm went off at six. Up and at ‘em, boy!

So I taught for the morning session, and surprisingly, rather decently. I begged off on the afternoon with my teaching partner. (We only have a handful in there right now, having sent a literal ton to the high school after the New Year.) Intended to go home, climb in my zero-zero-zero chair, and try to make up some of the missing sleep.

I didn’t. Don’t know why.

Instead, I drove (with difficulty) back to Twin Falls and had lunch. Pizza buffet. The perfect meal. While I was driving, I turned on my concert band channel and listened to a couple of my all-time favorite songs to play or conduct or listen to.

“Russian Christmas Music”, by Alfred Reed.
“Variations On A Korean Folk Song”, John Barnes Chance.
“Liturgical Dance”, by the modern genius David Holsinger.
“On A Hymnsong Of Philip Bliss”, also by Holsinger.

And while I was there in Twin, driving towards the majestic bridge that spans the Snake River Canyon, my life was at peace. It was time to end it. The pain and fatigue and dizziness and everything that went with it could all just go away. I would be with Christ momentarily. I had two goodbye letters ready in the car - one for the general public, and a more intimate one for my children on particular. Enough was enough. “I have fought the good fight, and my life was ready to be poured out as a drink offering,” as the apostle Paul would have said. And I’ve always wanted to feel what it was like to go flying off that bridge like a base jumper, sans all that equipment that keeps them alive when they hit the ground. One wonderful five second flight, and then Heaven.

But on my sound system in the car, John Zdeclik’s magical piece, “Chorale And Shaker Dance” came on. It’s a piece based on the “Simple Gifts” melody that most people know well. I’ve played it in high school, conducted multiple arrangements of it with various bands of my own, and even created a marching version of it to base a show around (called “simplicity”, oddly enough).

I know that amazing music by heart. Every note and nuance, from the third clarinet fingerings in the sixteenth note figures in the three measures at rehearsal letter S to where the cues point in the subtle entrances in the mysterious transition before the da capo in measure 124. Every glorious note.

God sent me that music to give me a reason to live.

I couldn’t die with that incredible music in my soul. And especially not while it was playing. So I kept driving.

👂

I’m home now. I’ve slept a couple of hours. I still hurt, I still feel the pain and terrible TAM sensations that bring me to the brink so often (blissfully, not as close as today very often). And I know a day will come when the pain and fatigue and misery from this disease will overcome my will to live, and not even God will be able to stop me without supernatural means.

Or maybe, just maybe...

The power of music is already supernatural means. Especially for an old music teacher.