Somehow Something Changed

       What first captured your heart and opened your eyes to the world of art, music, and transcendence? Who was the first to ignite your artist soul?

       For me it was a rock band: Chicago. Hearing their music literally changed my life in 1971. I would not be a musician today if they hadn’t happened to me. And this week I was fortunate to hear them play again, in Midland, at the Wagner Noel Performing Arts Center.

       I posted: Swinging with Chicago tonight … I’m the one in the balcony singing and playing air trombone.

       One hot summer afternoon in 1971 I was working in the backyard of our house on Thorpe Street in Hobbs, New Mexico. Up until that summer I had played trombone in the school band. I enjoyed band because my friends were there, but the idea of music hadn’t yet seized me. I was thinking about quitting. It was the summer leading into my sophomore year of high school and I was hungry for changes that would open my world.

       That afternoon I heard KCRS play a song by Chicago, “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is.” I’d heard it many times before, but this time the DJ let the music play all the way to the end. For the first time in my life I heard the trombone solo that famously finishes that song … and all I can say is, my life changed that day.

       There’s no other way to say it. My life changed. It had to be a gift from God because no one else could have changed me so completely. The day before I heard that solo, I was a goofy teenager ambivalent about everything; the day after, I was a musician. That event changed how I saw my future, it changed my thoughts about playing the trombone, it changed the trajectory of my life, it changed my heart.

       Because of my backyard conversion when I was just 16 years old, I still play trombone weekly. I played last Sunday, I played tonight at church orchestra rehearsal, and I’ll play tomorrow night at MC Jazz Band rehearsal. Because of that hot afternoon, music informs how I write, how I see the world, how I teach, and even the rhythm of my speech.

       If you had told me in 1971 those same guys (well, at least three of them) would still be playing rock-and-roll when they were in their 70s, and I would get to hear them play live, I would’ve laughed. How silly. And yet, now it’s my life goal to enjoy what I do as much as they enjoy performing, all the way to the end of my life, just like them.

       Tuesday night, the first song Chicago played was “Introduction,” which happens to be the first track from their first album. As soon as I heard those distinct eighth notes, bump bump, a pickup and beat one, I was carried away, like magic. “Sir, I can name that song in two notes.”

       Here’s the thing: I’m not really writing about Chicago; I’m writing about the power of music. I’m writing about how some things latch on to your soul so that you wallow in it for decades. Maybe for you it was soccer, or dance, or math, or mountains, or the beach. For me it was music, and Chicago made it happen.

       Week after week I write about God, running, cycling, backpacking, spiritual growth, family, music, and loving Cyndi. And the truth is, I can’t separate those topics. They are woven together, and I don’t care to cut them apart.

       I went to the Tuesday concert, not just to hear the same songs I can listen to any time I want, but to reinforce a 51-year-old life-changing experience that still influences me every day. Music is one of our tightest family ties. Music is one of my deepest spiritual truths. I don’t want to let that slip away.

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“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.”
Psalm 119:32

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