At this moment, somewhere in the universe, a child is born. This child looks like all of its fellow newborns, but he is different. This child will have a normal childhood, until he first picks up an instrument. It may be a wind instrument, or it may be a string or percussion instrument. At first, no one will pay attention to the child, but then they begin to listen. They will ask, "Is this his first time playing?" They will be amazed. This child will then be signed up for music lessons to hone their skills. They will speed through the first book on their instrument, and their baffled music teacher will bump them up to the next class with those who have been playing for longer than them. The child will astonish all who listen to him. They will have a perfect ear, know exactly what sounds right in a chord, and pick up new techniques at a speed exponentially faster than their peers. The child will easily snare the first chair position and along with this, the resentment from those in their section who cannot understand how this beginner outscores them on every test and outplays them on every part. When asked how they do it, the child shrugs and says, "I just practice," but no matter how hard his companions try, they cannot catch up to the prodigy.
When the child becomes a teenager, and enters high school, they join marching band and almost instantly become a marching master. The upperclassmen, who normally look down at freshmen with contempt, gaze upon this teenager with awe and respect. The teenager is placed in the highest band and takes the first chair position from the senior on their instrument, who is also the drum major. Once again, there will be hatred and jealousy. When the teenager is again asked "How do you do it?" they shrug and reply, "I just practice." The prodigy is not snobby or arrogant, but helpful and modest, giving the credit for their talent to their first music teachers. The teenager is selected for their all-state band easily, receiving an enemy in the long-standing first chair on their instrument. In solo and ensemble, they receive distinguished, of course, and they also make the all-district band. Our prodigy will feel unchallenged, and will approach their band director with the request to learn a new instrument. The director, who constantly brags to his director friends about this student, agrees enthusiastically.
On this new instrument, the teenager will exceed all expectations and quickly become better than those who have been playing on the instrument for years. The prodigy continues to pick up instruments at an incredible pace, and each year they are given the top awards for their talents. Soon, they audition for drum major, and are given the position without hesitation. The incoming freshmen look upon this drum major with reverence, and the band soars to new heights in their state competition.
Once the marching band season was over, the drum major begins applying for colleges. Throughout high school, this prodigy has managed to keep a 4.0, and is the favorite of all of histeachers. When the playing auditions for colleges begin, music professors everywhere are amazed by the talent of this young musician. Some even ask the student to redo hisaudition just so the professor can listen to them again for pure enjoyment. In many cases, the student has more raw talent that the professors. When the time for admissions arrives, music professors everywhere are snapping at each other's throats in order to collect the young musician. In the end, the student decides to attend the Berklee College of Music in Boston (with a full four year scholarship and stipend, I might add), and at their high school graduation, the applause is louder for the much-loved and sometimes-resented graduate. The only ones who are glad to see them gone are those whose jealousy poisoned their friendship with the former drum major.
At college, the student will breeze through their courses, which even the most advanced students struggle in. Sometimes, the music professors even allow the prodigy to teach the class. The musician is popular, friendly to everyone, and still very modest about their skills. People start talking, and the musician is asked to perform in small groups and as a soloist. The prodigy starts giving music lessons, and his students always write about him in school as their role model. Overall, the student is the perfect musician.
After graduating college with a degree in music education, and a master's degree on their original instrument, the musician begins looking for a job. The prodigy turns down offers as a music professor at some of the most esteemed music schools in the world, saying that he wants to see the child musicians during their period of greatest growth. Through his many previous experiences with band directors and his friendship with their former high school teachers, the prodigy takes the place of his high school band director as he retires. As a teacher, the prodigy exceeds all expectations. He is called a "musical genius." An excellent composer, an amazing director, and a master of every instrument. The prodigy's home is filled with instruments, and he stays up late composing ballads and marching shows. Under his tutelage, the band prospers. More and more students graduate high school with the dream of becoming a band director. During this time, he meets the love of his life: another band director at another school. Soon afterward, they have a daughter.
After many years of teaching and composing, the director is known throughout the world. They have been offered millions of dollars and some of the most prestigious music positions in the world, but he refuses to leave his students, or his daughter, who was turning out to be an amazing dancer. The director still plays gigs and solos for many of the world's best bands, but he never leaves his students for long. The students who graduate under this director remain good friends with him throughout the rest of their lives. The director decides that it is time to retire, and his students say goodbye with many tears and "thank you for everything!" 's. When he retires, he continues to teach lessons and substitute for band directors city-wide.
A few years later, the director is diagnosed with a disease. As he lies upon his death bed,
he is visited by his friends, who tell him how much they love the director, and how much he has changed their lives. The final visitors are his wife and daughter, who is carrying her first child. "I love you," they say. The former director breathes the words back, and closes his eyes. Before the metronome of his heart fades, he hears the melodies of an unfinished ballad whispering in the confines of his mind.
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The former-director's funeral is beautiful. White roses cover the floor, walls, and ceiling: gifts from the guests to their departed friend. Former students and peers flood the church. Most weep openly. The priest says a few words, and then the parade of friends assembles to pay tribute to the prodigy. Even the most emotionless visitors begin to cry as innumerable stories of love and friendship and loss and dreams come true are told. None have anything bad to say, only that they wish they could have said more to their lost friend. The director's wife cries throughout the entire funeral, and when her turn comes to speak, she looks at all of the white roses and breaks down sobbing. Two of her friends lead her back to her seat. The director's daughter is the last to speak. She rests her hand on her growing belly and squeezes her eyes shut. When she opens them, she begins to speak. She speaks of her father's talent, and of his dedication to his students, and of his love of the arts. She speaks of how he supported her in her career as a dancer, even though he had always wanted his child to be a musician. She speaks of his love for his wife and for her, his daughter. Last, she speaks of his heart. She speaks of how he always knew how to put into music what he could not say with words. How he could move mountains with the strength of his music. After she finishes speaking, she bows her head, and a single note rings through the room. The guest look around in confusion as the note builds into a chord, and then the chords layer upon one another to form a beautiful, earth-shattering harmony that resonates within the very souls of those listening. The song continues for minutes more, and then fades into nothingness.
After the funeral, people ask "What was that song?" The only one who knows doesn't say, and the melody remains a mystery forever. Later, the director's wife quietly removes the CD from the speaker system and puts it in the box of her husband's unpublished pieces so that it would remain special, one of a kind, and never recreated. Those who heard the song, however, will never forget the haunting, beautiful chords that brought tears to their eyes like no other music had before or ever would again.
