The Village Band

Last night was my first band concert with the EP Village Band. I went to my first rehearsal on Tuesday night and was immediately moved to principal horn, but that wasn't really my mission. The band is made up of a mostly older community and aside from a couple high schoolers who attend the school where we rehearse, I am the youngest one there by a long shot. I just wanted an outlet to make sure I play my horn this summer, regardless of whatever the quality of the group is, but these guys actually play really well!

Our concert last night was at a retirement center in town where people could bring their lawn chairs as we played outside the main doors. The clouds were rolling in and tiny drops of water were beginning to sprinkle on the plexiglass music covers on top of our folding stands as we sat in our personal folding chairs to warm up. Cars pulled up from local residents who wanted to come listen to their town band and the nursing staff wheeled out residents from the location to come listen.

The theme of the concert was post-memoriay-day-early-flag-day-post-v-day which honored many of the people out to watch. As per usual we started with a march: "National Emblem," by Bagley. As soon as the music started, the rain cleared off and was completely gone by the end of the march. As one of the conductors began to announce the next piece ("The Homefront": a medley of WWII songs), he directed everyone's attention to the giant rainbow crossing through the sky. I have never seen a rainbow as giant and amazing as this one which, if you've seen my scrapbook from last summer, is amazing. It was almost as though two perfect rainbows were stacked on top of each other so closely that they were sewn into one perfect entity.

We continued the concert with an obvious blessing from above and dove into that medley. An older woman was directly in my line of sight and I often watched her throughout the concert, but this piece was the reason I was so drawn to her. As we played through the conglomeration of "It's Been a Long, Long Time," "Thanks for the Memory," "I'll Be Seeing You," and "The White Cliffs of Dover," I watched her sing along but even more importantly--I watched her face remember every memory that each of those songs contained for her.

There's something so powerful about music that just provokes those kinds of memories. You can hear any song and often immediately find yourself reliving the very first time you heard that song. We watched The Shawshank Redemption the other night and Andy Dufresene had some pretty good music quotes, but one of them was about the "beauty of music" as something no one can steal from you.

"You need it so you don't forget that there are places in this world that aren't made out of stone. That there's something inside that they can't get to, that they can't touch...that's yours."

Red asks Andy what he's talking about and the simple reply is, hope.

That's what so many of these songs signified for the people listening through their memories last night and it was so neat to watch that show through on their faces. The program continued with "I Got Plenty Of Nuttin'," which got me thinking about the first time I knew that piece as a duet with my piano teacher when I was starting to learn some jazz for the first time.

After that, we transitioned to another march by Charles Duble called, "Old Glory Triumphant." The vocal soloist returned to sing "The Pledge Of Allegiance," as arranged by Alfred Reed, followed by our national hymn, "God Of Our Fathers," which had some fantastic horn parts to play. This was followed by a Karl King march, "Salute To The Colors," a medley of television theme songs, "A Symphony Of Sit-Coms," featuring themes from "I Love Lucy," "Bewitched," "Mister Ed" and "The Dick Van Dyke Show," Fillmore's march, "The Circus Bee," followed by Louis Armstrong's version of "What A Wonderful World."

That last one is another that triggers some sentimental value for me, but more importantly my dad. Whenever it comes on the ipod or in a store or pretty much anywhere and we are together, he always tells me that this is the song we will dance to whenever I end up getting married and goes on about how when I was little he would pick me up and we'd dance around the living room to Louis' unmistakable voice.

The concert concluded with Sousa's "Gallant Seventh," and as soon as the last note sounded, the rain suddenly started up again. It was almost as if the clouds wanted to make sure we had the perfect setting and all their attention for the music. They even brought that giant rainbow out again at the end. It was a little fainter this time, but an unmistakable congratulations from the sky for a job well done, as if any storm in the area was dissolved away by the sounds coming out.

That reminds me of one more quote from the movie the other night from Red's narration:

"I have no idea to this day what those two Italian ladies were singing about. Truth is, I don't want to know. Some things are best left unsaid. I'd like to think they were singing about something so beautiful, it can't be expressed in words, and makes your heart ache because of it. I tell you, those voices soared higher and farther than anybody in a gray place dares to dream. It was like some beautiful bird flapped into our drab little cage and made those walls dissolve away, and for the briefest of moments, every last man in Shawshank felt free."

I don't know if I will ever see the lady I was watching again--probably not--but I felt lucky to be able to share with her memories through her face last night. I tried finding her afterward to talk to her a little and thank her but she was gone. That is one of the things I love most about music. It's that way to make the walls that cage people in disappear. It's that ability to communicate, whether you are aware of it or not, without ever saying a word.

Put Your Hands in the Air and Scream

Monday afternoon, Barry asked me if I wouldn’t mind helping him organize the upstairs office or at least be there for moral support. Boy, was I excited! One of my hardest parts of work so far this summer has been knowing that I only work with Barry one day a week. His insight on different topics and ideas just triggers my brain and I love being around that mental stimulation, so when he asked me to go with him to help organize…double bonus!

When we got upstairs, he had me sit down and we just talked for a loooooong time. We talked about our winters and what new philosophical ideas we had, and he told me that when he saw the schedule and realized the same things I had that he was going to make a point for us to get together and be intentional about Fridays.

While we were talking about our winters, we started making an analogy between life and a roller coaster. Last summer he told me about the two different ways to ride a roller coaster: gripping the handle bar and screaming for your life or throwing your hands in the air and screaming for fun. Either way, both groups of people get on and off at the same stop so it’s up to you to decide which way to travel. Up until March I had never really been on a roller coaster so I couldn’t completely understand the point he was trying to make.

When I finally did ride one, I was that kind of person who gripped the bar until my knuckles were white and screamed the whole way. As we flew around the track though, I started thinking about his thoughts from months before and slowly let my death grip go. By the time we were hanging upside down, I was definitely still screaming, but I was able to throw my hands in the air right before the picture was taken.

It got me thinking about the key to that whole situation—the track. Sure, it seems like the roller coaster (or life) is flying by in every direction. You feel out of control and unable to see through the tied up mess of the course laid out. Upside down, round and round, over, under, and through—it seems like at any given second you could just fall right out to your death. That’s when you need to realize that you are completely attached to the track the entire time. As much as you might not like it, you don’t have the total control of where you are ending up. You’re on a track and your only job is to trust that you will end up exactly where you need to be.

It’s hard to do that in life. I have a lot of trouble just trusting that things will work out and I’ll end up where I need to be. As I think about it though, why spend time worrying about it all? Worrying doesn’t get people anywhere. Sure, it’s healthy to be concerned a bit or at least thinking about the directions you want to be heading, but in the end it’s about putting your faith in the outcome and flying through life with your hands in the air despite however much you may still be screaming.

My roller coaster right now is taking me through job interviews and towards my present future. I’m trying not to let it stress me out and worry me though. I’ve been getting out into the backcountry more, including a 16-mile hike with Tom and Conor yesterday and a 4-mile hike the day before with K, Conor, and Rebecca. I’ve been enjoying the mountains as much as I can because those can always be counted on to give me a good dose of serenity.

Planes and Goodbyes

I’m on the plane on my way back home from…home? I flew back to Gilbert Monday night after work for Goog’s graduation, and boy were those days loaded!

Tuesday morning, I woke up and went to the photography place because mom wanted updated pictures of me since my last formal pictures were from my senior year of high school. That afternoon, I napped for three hours, which was really nice since I’ve been keeping a pretty busy social schedule since I got to Colorado. Tuesday night was the last family dinner we will have with everyone there indefinitely. Mom ended up crying and I was thinking about how sad that really is. After dinner, I met up with the girls for a drink at Applebee’s, and I started thinking about the same things there.

Wednesday, I woke up and hung out by the pool for a couple hours. After showering off, I headed to the dentist to take care of my biannual checkup, but even there I realized I couldn’t schedule my next appointment since I have no idea when I’ll be back. On my way to the appointment however, I got a call from a school in the Glendale School District where I had turned in an application and they wanted to schedule an interview! Grandma and Grandpa showed up after a delayed flight schedule that evening and we all headed to Meredith’s graduation at Chandler High.

This morning, I woke up early and headed to my interview where I was offered the job after the hour of questions and talking. That made me feel a lot better that I am already batting 1000 as far as interviews and job offers go. Unfortunately, that situation didn’t seem like the best fit for me so I will keep looking until the right thing shows up. We hung out with the g-rents all afternoon and I filled out ten more applications for schools throughout Colorado. Goog’s dinner celebration was at Charleston’s, and after dinner I had to say all my goodbyes.

Mom has already scheduled her visit to come see me in two weeks, so that one wasn’t going to be hard, but saying goodbye to Grandma and Grandpa made me start tearing up. They are getting so much older, and each time I wonder if that’s the last time I’m going to see them or not since they live across the country. Then, I turned to say goodbye to everyone else. I almost completely lost it saying goodbye to Melinda and Meredith. We didn’t always get along the best growing up, but I love those two more than anything and would give my life to make sure they were happy. It’s hard not knowing when I’m going to get to see them next. Maybe I’ll be home for Christmas, but who knows depending on the job situation!

So here I am on the plane with tears streaming down my face as I listen to my bluegrass with their picture on the seat next to me as I stare out the window at Jupiter as it follows me in the sky everywhere I go. (Thank goodness there are only 9 people on my flight so everyone is spread out and not watching me right now!)

Seeing Jupiter out there reminds me of all the events in the past week, especially Saturday, but let me back up a little bit…

Anyone who talks to me knows how much I love my job. Going into the office doesn’t even seem like work to me (but trust me, it’s one of the busiest and most stressful offices in the park, despite what I make it seem like!), and my hike days don’t even seem fair when I think that I’m getting paid to hike. Knowing all that, Saturday has got to be hands down my favorite day at work.

As we neared the last hour of work, I had started running out of things to clean and organize for the day. At that point, a family came in so I went up front to help them out. What looked like three generations of females came up to the counter, with the young girl (maybe 12-14?) tried to get her mom to ask me a question. The mom finally gave in and said that she was trying to get her daughter to ask me, but that they had a question.

They had been out walking around Sprague Lake and came across the discreet handicap sign, designating our accessible backcountry campsite, and wanted to know what that was all about. I started talking to the young girl and asked her if she liked camping. In her response, I could tell through her excitement that she had some sort of disability, but really wanted to go camping! Her mom asked if the site was only designated for physical disabilities, and I assured her that anyone could use it if they felt that it would be a good fit.

All three women got so excited. I pulled down some pictures to show them the site, but they told me that they hiked back to the clearing and sat down at the picnic table for a while, just looking at the site, imagining their own private camping experience back there. The mom told me that her husband had just lost his job and they were trying to make ends meet, but wanted to keep that as an option to keep their daughter’s spirits up. She wondered if she needed any kind of documentation or doctor’s note to use the site, but I assured her it would be ok.

When the three left, they were full of smiles and tears of joy, and all shook my hand on their way out. I went back into the office and just started crying myself, thinking about the joy that had just been brought to them.

How neat is it that RMNP would have an accessible site so that even people with disabilities or who would not, under normal circumstances, be able to hike far to a backcountry campsite can have their own similar backcountry experience?! I am so proud to be a part of that community that can provide for opportunities such as those.

Saturday night after dinner, Tom and I headed up to hang out with Jupiter on a night hike up to Gem Lake. We left around 10pm and I got back to my place by 2am, but the stars were amazing, especially in contrast with the full moon and town lights! We hiked up to the lake and then climbed the rock wall behind it to get up above for the best views.

Sitting on a giant rock like that always makes me think a lot, and based on my sunburns this spring, you can tell I do a lot of rock sitting. Getting out into the “wild” like that is like soul food for me. I can’t be stuck inside for long periods of time or I start to go crazy. I think that’s part of why I wasn’t able to completely wrap my mind around the idea of teaching in the valley. I need to have a place I can go to distress, decompose, and just think.

So sure it’s been REALLY hard saying goodbye to all the parts of Arizona I love, but now it’s off to new and exciting adventures. I should be landing in half an hour (this won’t be posted until later since there is obviously no internet connection on the plane), and then driving back to Estes. For now, that’s my home, but who knows what’s coming my way after that. I am positive there’s some sort of bigger, better plan out there for me—I just don’t know what it is yet and for once, I think I’m ok with that.

Love Plan B

Nature weaves an intricate web of life into all things. Here, the spirit of the mountains prevails, and the higher in the mountains you travel, the closer to the heavens you reach. The backcountry surrounds me: untraveled and inviting.

Rocky Mountain National Park is:

416 square miles

350 miles of trails

473 miles of streams

147 lakes

267 backcountry campsites

75 miles of paved roads

110 peaks over 10,000 feet

72 peaks over 12,000 feet

25% Alpine tundra

95% designated Wilderness

And the best part? This is my entire back and front yard. This wilderness is where humans are visitors and don’t remain. While there are 3 million annual visitors, the only year-round residents of the park are the natural inhabitants. Here, nature gets to be nature—it’s free to do it’s own thing.

Today was the first day of work, starting with backcountry training in the auditorium with our staff and a bunch of LE (Law Enforcement) rangers. As we sat and listened to the uniform and backcountry spiels for this year, I began to think about and write down all my hopes and goals for this summer. As Barry pointed out last summer, a hope is something you have no control over, while a goal is the opposite. As my list grew, the last thing we talked about it training before playing Jeopardy (who says Rangers can’t have fun in training!?) was about “Situational Awareness”—a word that came up all the time in training last summer too and that is so important in the field.

“Situational Awareness” is knowing what is happening all around you, along with your ability to process it. It’s the difference between perception and reality, and is ESSENTIAL to managing risk.

After the group backcountry training, our staff left and loaded into our government vehicles to head off to an unknown destination. Barry led the way, and we ended up at a huge mansion that once belonged to Mr. K. Kingston who I guess began and owned some huge banking firms in Denver. The place is used now for non-profit organization meetings and functions, and Barry had arranged for our staff meeting to be there. For the beginning, he encouraged us to explore around the house as we ate our lunches, until we finally settled into the giant living room. The seventeen of us sat in a circle and our personal training began.

The neat thing about Barry is that the training today was personal. Rather than going over rules and regs from the very beginning, he wanted us to all get to know one another. He said he wanted us to hear each other’s voices and see the sparkle in each other’s eyes as we talked so that we could see what excitement we were in for this summer. What other bosses do people have that strive for a healthy work culture made of two kinds of people, “comedians and philosophers?” His biggest goal is to make our government office the exact opposite of the DMV. (Oh, how I can relate to that right now!)

He asked us two questions that we were supposed to answer, popcorn style instead of around the circle so no one was pressured to talk at any point. The first questions: “What did you learn?”

All of my coworkers went around the room, sharing their bits of wisdom they’ve learned from over the years as I sat and planned out what I was going to say. The first was taken directly from Timon in The Lion King, “Home is where my rump rests.” I could directly relate to that, along with many of the following ideas: “Some relationships are for a reason, some relationships are for a season, and some relationships are for a lifetime.” (I might have to come back to this quote at some point this summer.) “Leave your egos at the door,” combined with “Arrogance kills.”

Finally, as I sat there thinking about my life and writing down ideas and notes on my yellow legal pad, I realized exactly what it is that I’ve been learning lately: I CAN’T plan out and control everything in my life. I spoke up and began telling about my very first Halloweens, when I would come home after going around the neighborhood, dump my candy on the floor, and then rather than eat it all before getting into trouble like a normal three-year-old, I’d begin to organize it by color or brand. I asked for a “little kitchen” for Christmas one year when I was younger and began to organize all the shelves and put the food away in its appropriate spots as soon as I saw Santa brought it for me. My main use for Barbies was to set up their houses and organize all their accessories, rather than actually play with the dolls (I was more into legos than dolls all along anyway!).

At the end of high school, my best friend Erin and I sat down and decided to plan our lives out. I wanted kids by a certain age, which meant I had to be married so many years before that, which meant I had to be dating the guy by so many years before that, and had to actually know the guy so many years before that…Throw in the job timeline, combined with school, and my life was set. When I was back home at my mom’s house recently, I found that timeline we had made and realized just how many of those dates I had missed. That’s when I realized what I was learning.

Andree pointed out to me, “you can set your goals, but you have to be willing to change your plans.”

How true is that in my life right now?! I am officially done with school and have nothing holding me back. I don’t owe any debts to anyone for my college expenses. I don’t have a relationship I’m involved in right now to tie me down somewhere. I am completely free to go wherever I want, so why not take a job in Anchorage, AK if that comes my way?

Thinking back even on my lesson plans during student teaching, I immediately thought back to the second grade incident. While I had everything planned out for my class, there was no way I could have accounted for the little boy to lunge at his classmate and tackle him, while choking him, to the floor. As John Lennon said, “Life is what happens when you’re making other plans.”

More importantly, as Barry pointed out today, “LOVE PLAN B.”

If you love “Plan B” and “Plan A” doesn’t work out, you’re still set either way. I am learning to roll with what life gives me, and see where I end up. Even after three days in Colorado and only one day at work, I can tell this is going to be yet again a summer of a lifetime.

Dreams and Reality

The past week truly has been a blur of emotions. I woke up yesterday morning after a restless sleep with tears still unwillingly streaming down my face. I tried to make them stop but I had no control over what they were doing.

Strangely, as I lay there in the bed, I stared at the wall on my side and remembered back to the exact feeling at the end of last summer when I woke up and stared at my blank wall, back in my room, thinking it was all a dream. That's what prompted me to cover it with pictures from the summer so I would know it all really happened. Looking at that blank wall yesterday though, I realized that waking up back in Estes, I was going to realize I was back home again but was that going to make me feel like the last five years (especially the most recent!) in Flagstaff were going to seem just as surreal? As all these thoughts of walls and deeper meanings were going through my head and I was chewing on my lip to think about something other than crying, Drew pulled up a C.S. Lewis quote,

"And just as there are moments when simply to lie in bed and see the daylight pouring through your window and to hear the cheerful voice of an early postman or milkman down below and to realise that it was only a dream: it wasn't real, is so heavenly that it was very nearly worth having the nightmare in order to have the joy of waking, so they all felt when they came out of the dark."
-The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

The irony of how well that lined up with what I had been thinking about set me off again, and as I willed the tears to stop, I couldn't even say anything at all. Reading another passage--this one from the Bible--kept the tears coming as I thought about how I was leaving the town where I lived the past five years.

"We don't see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright!"

After saying the final tearful goodbyes to D, D, and L, I got in the car, made a quick stop at the MVD, and headed on my way. On the drive, I started with Mahler 1, using it as a memory of one of the highlights of my playing career in Flag. After that, I went through some of the fifths, with Shostakovich 5, Beethoven 5, and Mahler 5. The first two brought back memories of playing with the Flagstaff Symphony, and while I never performed the full Mahler 5, the horn excerpts were used on my last horn audition at NAU. After those four symphonies, I tried listening to the mix Kelly made me for my birthday last summer. With that music though, I found myself zoning out and not listening as intently as I had been with the symphonies.

I found it strange that I was more unfocused listening to the music that actually had words to sing along with. At my first gas stop in Kayenta, AZ, I was on the phone with Aaron Walker. He said he couldn't listen to classical music when driving because he has to sing along to stay awake. When I got back in the car, I realized I had been singing along to all the different instrumental parts of the piece. I was immersing myself in the music and able to listen so intently for the first time in a while because there was nothing else to distract me.

Utah found me listening to Pictures at an Exhibition and Night on Bald Mountain, both an FSO and high school memory, respectively. Tchaikovsky 4 took me to Moab (the halfway point) while Sheherazade took me away. I70 gave me a chance to listen to all four Brahms symphonies, with the final, triumphant chord of the first symphony lining up directly with my cross over the Colorado border. I70 went on forever, so I was able to get Dvorak 8, Schubert 8, and Dvorak 9, totaling at twelve complete symphonies and a few other works combined with Denver radio for the 836 mile drive.

Waking up this morning in my bed in Estes, I opened the window and let the daylight pour in. Long's Peak was outside, covered in snow, and there were so many shades of green I didn't know what to do with myself. Kristin was sleeping on the mattress on the floor and my suitcases were shoved in the corner from unloading half my car after stopping at The Rock last night before heading home. The cheerful voices I heard were of the wind sweeping through the grasses and trees, combined with the chirping of the birds and rustling of the small rodents running around outside. The best part--it wasn't a dream. Even though I'm here now in the mountains where I belong, Flagstaff is still just as real to me and I am not losing touch with that feeling yet.

Skillet on the Stove

It's time. In just a few hours I'm getting into the already loaded car and heading 750 miles away, not knowing if I will ever really be back. It's so strange and it just hit me as I was laying in bed and tears started coming unexpectedly from my eyes.

I'm done in Flagstaff though: All of my NAU bills are paid. I finished the last minute errands like getting a haircut, oil change, gas, tire rotation, stopping at Cedar Music and the bank on last time. I am an official member of the National Association for Music Education (MENC) and the Sigma Alpha Iota Alumni Association.

Then today, I had to do some of the hardest parts of leaving. I loaded the car and official moved out of 206. Sure, I had to move out last summer too, but this time I'm not coming back. Throughout the past week and a half, things were slowly disappearing. The pictures on the walls were some of the first things to go, and it immediately made the apartment seem like some foreign place. Today, we turned in the keys and parking permits, and looking around the empty, echoing rooms left a giant pit in my stomach, especially thinking about all the fantastic memories that were made within those walls.

Tonight at dinner, a bunch of my close friends met up at Beaver Street Brewery for a final dinner/goodbye. After dinner, most of us headed to Liza's place where we sang Disney tunes at the top of our lungs, and it made me realize how much I really am going to miss Flagstaff and all my friends here. I realized that life is going to go on for all of them, and maybe I will stick around in their minds for a little bit, but chances are they will move on and not really give it a second thought. Those 750 miles make quite a difference and if I end up teaching in Alaska, it will be an even further thought tucked back into any of their minds.

So here I am, sitting in a friend's bed while they snore away and I have just a couple silent tears trickling down my face. This time of reflection is making me think of my last big event in Flag: the tattoo I got yesterday. It's a simple drawing that I made in high school--an intermingled treble and bass clef, tucked behind my left ear. To me, it means more than just that though. The connected shape doesn't have a start or end point, and the fact that it's on the left side of my body makes it closer to my heart. Behind my ear reminds me to listen deeper for more meaning in what goes on around me, and the combination of bass and treble clefs indicate a harmony of sorts that cannot be surpassed.

As I go on into this next stage of my life, I need to keep these Flagstaff memories with me as a happy period of time, but I also need to be ready to embrace what lies before me.

Why should I be tearing up thinking about what I will be missing when I have so many opportunities lying ahead of me, starting tomorrow?

Behind the Wheel

I drove to Durango, CO this weekend with Kendall so I could take my Colorado teacher certification test (the PLACE). The ten hours in the car didn't seem quite worth it for the one hour test, but I got a big wake up call just past Tuba City on the way there.

As the sun was setting through the stormy clouds, we were enjoying the views in the sky while listening to Kendall's selections on my ipod when I suddenly saw three cows on the road ahead of me. Going 75mph, there was no way I could brake in time for the cows. As I swerved out of the way, I noticed through the dusky light that it was a baby on the road, frozen in fear as each parents waited on a different side of the road. While my heartbeat slowed down, I started comparing those cows to different events in my life--those times where I've been frozen in fear in the middle of a path between two very important things, but unable to move despite all my efforts.

That's kind of how I feel right now--stuck between job applications and Flagstaff. I find myself so scared to death about leaving the familiar place that I love and have grown to call home, but also about the mountains of opportunities out there that await me and new experiences I haven't had the chance to encounter yet. I'm the baby cow that's frozen in the road between two larger ideas and need to realize that if I stay there too long, the cars won't always be able to swerve out of the way because they will be coming from both directions, in streams with others behind them.

The drive home was just as mentally intellectual. I started focusing on objects like mountains or trees off in the distance. As I approached them in the car, I started realizing how easy it is to move from large to small picture views. When you are far away, you can focus on the whole idea, rather than just one particular part if that's what you choose. Up close, you don't have much of an option, but there is still a large/small picture concept...it's just on a different, much smaller scale.

These thoughts all feel so scrambled, but it's nice to be able to write again. I've had so much trouble finding time for myself between all the teaching and job applications, but I know it will all be worth it in the end.