I wrote this for my dad in 1999, some time after he moved from the band room to the library. If you know my dad, you know he won’t ever retire; he just gets a new gig. He was an elementary, middle school, and high school band director for over twenty years. Now that I have experienced the acute auditory PAIN, I mean joy, of a young one learning a new instrument, I have a newfound respect for Dad. He invested in so many students’ lives during his time at Payson Schools, and continues to be a champion for the arts today. Love you Dad!
Titan of Sound
He stands on the stage
His back to the crowd
Shooshing for soft
And flapping for loud
His hands are batons
That twirl magic spells
His knees keep the time
As his feet tap in swells
With one small wave
the music begins
with another hand closing
it soon quits again
His frame ebbs and flows
With the rip of the song
His hair falls in wild waves
As if swept along
Then the song slows
And comes to an end
The crowd stands clapping
The band plays again
When it’s all finished
The playing is done
The people all left
The instruments gone
My father sits smiling
To bask in the glow
Of an ocean of symphony
Caught in its tow
~SLW 99
Your Dad is someone special. And I am surprised that he is not deaf since he spent so many hours in a small band room with everyone playing their instruments. When Greg and I were in high school, I use to play my clarinet at about 1 or 2 am on the school bus to let everyone know that I was awake. I tried to talk Greg into playing his trumpet but he never did. It didn’t stop me. Greg is a great Dad and a good man and you have been blessed to be brought up in such a crazy and wild yet Christian family.
Aunt Nancy
You can write poetry too? I don’t know why I’m surprised, you are a woman of MANY talents. There’s a lot of poetry that I don’t like, but this, I like. Not pretentious, clear thoughts, subtle rhyme, nice flow. I bet your dad loved it.