On my first day as a Sophomore I was headed to one of my classes, walking in my typical head down fast paced manner when a hand slammed down on my shoulder and turned me around. Standing suddenly still I found myself face to face with Grish, my French Horn Section Leader. "Dave," he said, "Freshmen run...."
In the Pueblo South High School Band Culture, Sections leaders were powerhouse leaders, expected to be both mentors and encouraging. Grish was a great Section Leader, and being the Number two Chair, it was also my job to learn from him so that when the time came, I would move up. My folks got moved after my Sophomore year and I never had the chance to be the Horns Section Leader, but I did use a lot of Grish in my later Section Leader of the Trombones Sections at Ogden High in Utah.
If you look at the pic of Grish and I from those days, you'd never guess which is which, given that one of us was an All-American Conservative Football player and the other a borderline last of the Hippie movement authority questioner. One looked like a clean cut kid, the other a long shaggy haired freakazoid. And of course, the pics were completly opposite of reality.
Grish was the one who talked me into playing in Orchestras. The School Orchestra was trying to branch out and use more brass, and needed some horns, Grish told me it would be fun and different, and that the Beethoven wrote some really kicking French Horn parts. Which was true, and sitting on stage in a tux playing the Egmont Overture was topped only by our sense of humor that caused us to be late getting on stage to play it int he first place. That's when I discovered that Orchestra people don't have the same sense of humor that Marching and Pep Band people have.
Grish talked me into Music Analysis class, and into taking new challenges and considering new things. He was funny, friendly and a leader who still influences me even today, thirty years later.
When my folks were transferred to Utah after my Sophmore year I never had the chance to talk to Grish or tell him that we were leaving. I never saw him or heard from him again. And this week, I connected again with another of our old French Horn section, April, who told me that Grish had passed away some time ago.
I suppose that she presumed that I already knew, because there were no details, no time frame, no how or why, just that Grish was gone and even thrity years after we last all saw each other with what was the best and most exciting musical time of my life, there is suddenly a huge hole that I cannot explain.
In the back of my mind I always imagined that at some point the three of us would somehow or another run into one another and share the success that our lives had become, and I would have the chance to tell Grish that I still remind myself almost everyday that "Freshmen run...."
My world got a little smaller and sadder, and even the kick-ass French Horn parts of the Egmont Overature seem a little softer and sadder today.
In the Pueblo South High School Band Culture, Sections leaders were powerhouse leaders, expected to be both mentors and encouraging. Grish was a great Section Leader, and being the Number two Chair, it was also my job to learn from him so that when the time came, I would move up. My folks got moved after my Sophomore year and I never had the chance to be the Horns Section Leader, but I did use a lot of Grish in my later Section Leader of the Trombones Sections at Ogden High in Utah.
If you look at the pic of Grish and I from those days, you'd never guess which is which, given that one of us was an All-American Conservative Football player and the other a borderline last of the Hippie movement authority questioner. One looked like a clean cut kid, the other a long shaggy haired freakazoid. And of course, the pics were completly opposite of reality.
Grish was the one who talked me into playing in Orchestras. The School Orchestra was trying to branch out and use more brass, and needed some horns, Grish told me it would be fun and different, and that the Beethoven wrote some really kicking French Horn parts. Which was true, and sitting on stage in a tux playing the Egmont Overture was topped only by our sense of humor that caused us to be late getting on stage to play it int he first place. That's when I discovered that Orchestra people don't have the same sense of humor that Marching and Pep Band people have.
Grish talked me into Music Analysis class, and into taking new challenges and considering new things. He was funny, friendly and a leader who still influences me even today, thirty years later.
When my folks were transferred to Utah after my Sophmore year I never had the chance to talk to Grish or tell him that we were leaving. I never saw him or heard from him again. And this week, I connected again with another of our old French Horn section, April, who told me that Grish had passed away some time ago.
I suppose that she presumed that I already knew, because there were no details, no time frame, no how or why, just that Grish was gone and even thrity years after we last all saw each other with what was the best and most exciting musical time of my life, there is suddenly a huge hole that I cannot explain.
In the back of my mind I always imagined that at some point the three of us would somehow or another run into one another and share the success that our lives had become, and I would have the chance to tell Grish that I still remind myself almost everyday that "Freshmen run...."
My world got a little smaller and sadder, and even the kick-ass French Horn parts of the Egmont Overature seem a little softer and sadder today.
Sorry for your loss Dave.
ReplyDeleteMany years ago, as a Senior in high scool, a friend and I carpooled (he gave me a ride) to an ROTC scholarship interview. Nice guy and he got the 4 year scholarship. (I later got a 3 year scholarship. My first year was paid through a combination of university scholarship, grant, loan and work/study program.) I did not regret Craig getting the 4 year scholarship - he was the type who would give you the shirt off his back and would make a great leader.
ReplyDeleteIt wasn't until I retired from the Army that I learned Craig was killed in an automobile accident in his Freshman year of college. We had gone to different colleges and lost contact. I guess it is just a way of saying that we may never know what God has in mind for us.
I do understand your loss.