counting time

Just listened to The Writer's Almanac, as much a part of my morning routine as tea. Today's segment marked the birthday of the famous composer and conductor Leonard Bernstein and included a poem, "Tin Ear," by Peter Schmitt. In it he remembers his childhood music teacher, and smiling at his admission to singing " in a key no one has ever heard," I was immediately transported back to high school and Mr. Messier.

Mr. M traveled between another town's school and ours each week to introduce our high school glee club to songs ranging from old spirituals to timeless standards. What came back to me like a bolt today was his tremendous compassion and obvious dedication to music and his merry band of singers. You see, I'd never learned to read music.

Maybe it was my persistence that won him over...or wore him down. As I remember it, the first time I tried out I couldn't fake following the little black marks on the song sheet. Pass. Yet the following year I showed up again and succeeded in spite of my still obvious lack. You see, I had a good voice and could follow whoever was next to me so that after one run-through I could manage not to embarrass myself or anyone else. I just initially used the score to direct my voice up or down and learn the lyrics while keeping an ear out for Cathy the alto next to me and my attention on Mr. M at the front. It's true.

I loved singing so much that of course I tried out for the orchestra. Why not? More amazing was that I got in!! I guess the safest place to put me was behind the bass drum, sharing that responsibility with another girl with the same first name. She could read music and I had pluck, what can I say? So we took turns. Mr. M must have figured that I couldn't get into too much trouble next to my friend Patty who played the snare drum and good-naturedly kept me on track. Another friend Susie played a myriad of instruments including the triangle, which we have never let her forget, and thus our back row was complete. My cohorts were talented (and could read music), but together we were like kids in the rear of the movie theater to whom everything seemed funny. At least that's how I remember it. We had just way too much fun together and must have driven Mr. M crazy.

My most stellar performance was the initial rehearsal for commencement. Everyone tuned up and when Mr. M lowered his hand for us to start, I earnestly gave my all to "Pomp and Circumstance". I break up even now as I remember him stopping the entire orchestra to point out that I was playing the pivotal drum beat, to which the graduates would march into the auditorium, at half the tempo I should. (Did I mention that I couldn't read music?) At that rate the following year's class would have been ready to graduate before the current grads had made it to their seats...

You had to love someone who displayed that much forbearance and was so forgiving. He gave me some of my fondest -- and funniest -- memories of high school. I still can't read music, but because of Mr. M I can definitely count those times as some of my best.