(UNDER CONSTRUCTION)
... Among the people I came to know there, I will never forget Mr. Brown, (Earl, not Charlie,) the jazz musician and teacher who tutored me in the art of the alto saxophone for a short time. No matter how frustrated I got, he always had the most cordial and humble manner about him, and he was extremely patient with a young white boy who had very little appreciation for music, much less jazz, at the time. He has been a life-long friend of my father's. Although I'm fairly certain he has kicked the habit by now, my Dad always boasted that Mr. Brown taught him how to flick his ashes out the driver's window. For imparting this trick to my Dad, my lungs will be forever grateful to Mr. Brown. (Did I mention that he's also really great at yo-yo tricks...? )
Despite my rebellion toward my dad for his insistence that I needed tutoring, I stuck with the musical discipline that Mr. Brown taught me so early on. I went on to play the tenor sax in my senior year of high school. Later, I earned the honor of being voted Drum Major of Snow Hill High School Marching Band in 1993-94. Our band went undefeated that year, placing first in all of our competitions.
While people like Mr. Brown inspired my love for music, I also have to give enormous credit to all of my music teachers. From Mrs. Buchly, to Mrs. Hill, to Mr. Fink and Mr. Kraus, I owe all of them a debt of gratitude for their devotion to teaching music to such hard-heads like myself. Their teaching made me love music. And music made me love life. Without their contributions, I would certainly not be who I am today. Without music, I believe I would not be alive today...
I still have that old alto saxophone, but alas, it now lies in my closet, unpracticed, gathering dust. It is a trophy to some of the best victories of my life, and a reminder to me of the investment that so many people made in my abilities, musical and otherwise.
I have since learned to love the artists that Mr. Brown mentioned, with subtlety, to me in those days in his parlour: "Charlie Parker", "John Coletrain"... I now live in Washington, DC, where jazz flows through the streets of urban life more steadily than it did through the silos of rural Snow Hill. I have come to appreciate and savor jazz, with all of its improvisations and patterns. I am learning a whole new etymology to describe the nuances playing across my ear bones, where before there were no words. And it has paid off, because I'm still learning. My partner at "Everybody Wins" (an Elementary School lunch-time reading program) told me recently that she is doing a book report on Billie Holiday. A year ago, I would not have known that name, much less how Billie's voice differs from anyone, say Whitney Houston. .....(Next page) (Previous Page)
Paynetown, MD...
(just S/W of the
Snow Hill city limits)...