My Number One Musician

     Two years. That's how long my son, Tim, prepared for his first drum major audition.  Between honor classes, band rehearsals, and trombone lessons, he was unable to fit his conducting lessons in during the week, so we trekked  to them on Sunday evenings after church.

     He practiced conducting everywhere--in the car (he wasn't driving), in church,  in class, in the grocery store. He concentrated so deeply on the music in his head or on his MP3 player, he often became oblivious to everything around him. No doubt, Tim was committed, and his conducting instructor told me he was more than prepared. He was good. By the time he auditioned, he was confident and ready. I just knew he would at least achieve the assistant position.

    He didn't. He wasn't chosen for any position. Not drum major, not assistant, not even section leader. It seemed as if he had gambled everything, and lost it all. As we read the announcement,  I watched him process the news, heart-sick for him. He didn't speak, and he turned his cell phone off for a while to avoid messages. "You are still  the same conductor you were yesterday and the day before, son,"  his father told him. "Nothing changes that, and we are still very proud of you."  Tim could only nod.

   More people  rallied to support him:  friends, cousins, former and current teachers, and grandparents. The musicians mattered the most, especially my sister, Linda, a band director.  She posted a message on Facebook that read, "You are still my # 1." This small comment seemed to snatch a bit of his personality out of the disappointment.  It took a few weeks and a few trips for coffee at Starbucks, but she eventually persuaded Tim to give himself some time, and then to get back to his goal.

     Tim "rested" for three months during which time I mourned his loss with him. I missed his practice-in-motion jaunts through Wal-Mart and the stares from strangers. They had become a part of our routine. Not once in that time did he practice salutes, listen to drum and bugle corps music, or raise his arms to conduct so much as a hymn. However, his attitude remained positive. For the rest of the year, he maintained his GPA, continued to tutor younger musicians at the middle school, and practiced his trombone. He embraced the role granted him with an integrity and grace I have seen in few others, myself included.

     When the time came for the 2011 - 2012  audition, I was more than nervous for him. The continuous conducting had resumed mid-year, but he had refused further lessons, choosing to consult his band directors and practice alone. After the audition, he told me he had performed well, and that he would accept "whatever the judges say."

      Of course I was thrilled when he was named drum major. He won with a significant lead musically, but more than that, he had reached a goal he could have easily abandoned. He didn't give up and grow bitter; he moved forward, developing a self-respect  that exceeds the fleeting reward of titles. Of all his accomplishments in music and elsewhere, perhaps this one will serve him best.