Several years ago, after our church choir sang at a funeral Mass for a fellow parishioner and good friend, I told our music director, Frank DeProspo, that I wanted him to play the instrumental “piano exit” to the original Layla at my funeral. With a twinkle in his eye, Frank responded, “You know that’s not liturgically correct,” to which I answered, “This, coming from a guy who played Margaritaville at Tom Williamson’s funeral!”
Another fellow choir member overheard us and asked me, “Why Layla?” I gave her a flippant, off-the-cuff answer. That answer felt disrespectful, and I’ve regretted ever since. But honestly, I had no idea how to answer truthfully. To me, music is a language, the language of my soul. Unfortunately, there’s no “Music to English” dictionary that can find the right words to express the meanings and emotions of a composition. It took a high school choir class to find those words for me.
One of my retirement jobs is working as a substitute teacher. Subbing keeps me in the classroom while allowing me to set my own schedule. The exception is when I get a request from Madeline Poe, the choral director at Beachside High School in St. Johns, Florida. When she texts, I’m there. She’s a phenomenal teacher, a better person, and her students are always wonderful. I sometimes even think of the kids as my own, even though they’re not. Recently, these students helped me find an accurate “music vocabulary,” and a whole lot more.
Beachside High School in St. John’s, Florida.
On this particular day, the students took the initiative to rehearse the showcase piece of their upcoming spring concert, a medley from Phantom of the Opera. But it was far from a traditional practice session. All discipline went out the window. Oh, the student singers hit every note dead on and in perfect balance – but all while mugging to the music! They jumped and twirled and danced and bounced and whirled each other around with not one iota of self-consciousness. Their faces glowed as they surrendered to the joy of the moment. It seemed as though they had shattered their human shells to reveal their true nature – the real nature God created within us all.
Too often, I “define” people by their appearance or their roles in relation to my life. A check-out clerk. A corporate executive. A bike-rider. I think other people – maybe even you – do the same thing. Unfortunately, when we do that, we don’t see the humanity behind the function. And when that happens, we can’t overcome the superficial, man-made differences that prevent us from seeing the dignity of each and every person we encounter.
much more sedate and controlled session!
That realization is the gift Madeline’s kids gave me. After more than half a century, it helped me understand why Layla’s instrumental coda captivates my soul. It expresses joy. It reflects finality, timelessness, and eternity all at the same time. It exposes our humanity. It’s a reminder that we’re all made in God’s image and should always – always – treat each other that way. And that’s one heck of a lesson from a bunch of undisciplined high school kids.
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Now What? 