Its true....what they say...

Have you ever been told, “something better will come along,” or “it just wasn’t mean to be”? Over the last four months I have heard that more than I care to recall. While always said with the best intentions by friends and family alike…I just got tired of it.

In April I completed my student teaching and applied for a job in my home town. Things were looking good. I felt very confident. The teachers in the department were very supportive and even went as far as to say “you’re the one we want,” and “you’re the perfect fit.” These teachers were ever a part of the interview team. But in the back of my mine I just didn’t feel like I would end up with the job. Since it was April, there were not many jobs postings on the state job bank. I walked into the interview nervous as hell. The secretary who took my back to the principal’s office squeezed my hand and said, “…this job is your honey, we’re all rootin’ for you.”

It was my first interview…ever. (Not counting my interview with The President’s Own USMC the day after I graduated from college.) I’ve never had to interview for a job before. They’ve always been offered. Anywho…it was a great interview, at least until the end when the principal said, “nobody starts off with their dream job.” That comment replayed in my mind for the two long weeks I had to wait. When I got the phone call I was on a walk. I was cutting through the middle school parking lot when my phone rang. I didn’t get the job. They gave it to someone with “more classroom experience.” I put my phone back in my pocket and I heard an 8^th band student say to his mom, “that’s going to my new band director next year,” as he waved while getting into his mom’s car. I smiled and waved back.

That was the longest walk back to my house ever. I had no direction. No job leads. No career to fall back on. (I refused to return to the previous one.) But what bothered me the most was that I had no confidence as an educator or a musician. One phone call ripped that confidence from me.

Long story short: After 28 applications and only 5 interviews I am finally hired. And you know what; something better did indeed come along. I am very pleased and excited to be the new middle school and high school choir director in Robinson, Illinois. This job opened on a Friday. I had an interview the following Tuesday and was offered the job on Wednesday. It happened so fast that it just does not feel real yet. Today, while in the unit office getting all official and whatnot, I met several colleagues who welcomed me to the team. Of all the jobs I applied for this is the best fit for me as an educator and a musician. Confidence restored. However, I’m an all sort of new terrified.

Southern...by Association

Recently I attended a concert of opera choruses. Most professional music organizations will at some point in their season put in these concerts of popular music. Lets face it…it sells tickets. Since I have been involved in professional music I have been astounded at just who the patrons are. They are there to be seen...for the most part. There is a reason the worst seats (acoustically) are the highest priced seats. People will pay it. They love to say things like, “Oh, I can’t. I’m going to the opera tonight.” Or, “What?! You don’t have season tickets to the philharmonic? Edgar and I never miss…” While people will stand up and cheer for the soaring tenor solos (rock stars of the opera world), I’m the one crying his eyes out during the opening notes of Puccini’s “Un bel vedremo” from Madama Butterfly. It is perhaps the best opera ever written. But that is another post for another time.

There are several songs that have that effect on me. But I was surprised by one today. It isn’t exactly a song that you would think could cause me to break down. Several years ago I was a young college guy living in a part of the country that was foreign to me. I went from my Midwestern hometown to the heart of Appalachia. During my first weekend at school the East Tennessee State University Bluegrass band was giving a concert in our college church. The sanctuary was packed and I was sitting in the back row with a few new found friends. Honestly I was just there for the required Lyceum credit. I had no interest in this music called bluegrass. The concert ended…but wait…there was an encore. The banjo started and in an instant the entire audience was on their feet, stompin’ clapin’ and singin’ along. I had NO IDEA what was happening. On the walk back to my house I asked one of these new found friends what that song was where people got their corn from a jar. With a look of complete abhorrence and total detestation she stopped walking, looked at me and said, “Boy. That was Rocky Top. And you best be learning it if you plan on stickin’ around these parts.”

The longer I stayed in the region the more I grew accustomed to bluegrass. Now I love it. But Rock Top isn’t just any ol’ bluegrass song. It is an anthem, a creed, and a sacred song of culture that will forever remind me of a better time, a different place, and some of the best friends I have ever made. As I was leaving campus in my graduation robe I was stopped by a man that I grew to love over three years. It was in his classroom that I learned more about being a gentleman than I did any course material. Placing a hand on my shoulder he asked, “Andrew. What have you learned here?” I think my response took him by surprise. I did not recite the three pillars of history created by him and expected on every test. I did not mention the countless stories he told in class, or recall any information on the Civil War. No. I told him that I learned to respect a culture that had only lived to me in the trite recounts of ignorant citizens. I told him that I learned what it is to be a southern gentleman. “But, Mr. Flynn,” he drawled “you’re a Yankee.” With a smile on my face I said, “No sir. I am a gentleman…southern by association.” A firm handshake and a broad smile confirmed to me that I had become one of them…a Southerner. Men of the South have always been noted for their distinguishable décor and dress. Their honey-soaked accents and captivating manners charm people from all parts of the world. While I will never have such an accent, I will always yearn for one. It is the honesty and integrity at the core of a true southern man that I respect. The debonair and charm that seems to flirt with every aspect of southern life is an intoxication quality I long to exude. The ability to work all day but always make time for friends, family, God, and a cocktail. This is what makes a Man of the South a true gentleman.

So…below is the clip that I just stumbled across today. It isn’t the grand rendition as performed by the UT band at football games. It doesn’t involve Dolly Parton, or even a banjo for that matter. I guess I really can't explain what this song, this version, does to me. Perhaps it serves as a reminder of what I will forever strive to become...

Wordless Wednesday: Tradition

The Cummins Municipal Band
Olney City Park
Wednesday evenings starting at 8:00 PM