The Light Within

Probably one of my favorite days on social media is the first day of school. With each of my friends posting pics of their crisply dressed  children and fresh haircuts, it takes me back to a time of innocence and hope. 

One of my former teachers also posted a message.  Mrs. Light was my 7th & 8th grade music teacher. We were fortunate to reconnect a few years ago and have a great peer relationship, even though it is still awkward to call her by her first name. She posted a picture of a banner she has in her classroom. The banner tells of all the wonderful things these students will learn this year in music. Her heartfelt post made me smile as every item on the list is 💯true. 

Over my lifetime, music has been the one constant I could rely on. It has literally taken me all over the world and I have been fortunate to meet the most amazing people I could have not otherwise encountered.  This post is not about my life’s musical adventure, this post is about the special educator who hung this sign in her classroom.  She doesn’t realize it, but this sign is not about the students entering her classroom, it’s about the ones who have already exited. See, I was one of her first batch of Volusia County students so many years ago.  In my parents house is a box of blue Solo & Ensemble medals that Mrs. Light helped me achieve. My first exposure to all county band and the baritone came under the guidance of her classroom.  As my musical career expanded to high school, a Euprope trip, The University of Kansas, Japan, and ultimately countless of Saturday morning performances, the lessons she taught of hard work and practice were never forgotten. Mrs Light recognized my talent, but she saw my heart first and foremost. She was a parent to so many long before she was blessed with Her daughter. 

One of the great things about music is that it teaches you to see the world differently. The notes on the page only tell part of the story, and often when sight reading, you look at the entire page to better understand the notes before you.  When I look at this banner, I see something very different. Reading it from top to bottom, it says all the things the student will experience, but reading this from the bottom to the top, tells the true story of who Kris Light is an educator and friend.  

When I see this poster, it reads like this:

To Kris Light...

You... are the reason we made it here!

You.... are Loved by all of your students current and former. 

You... are a Friend to all that meet you!

You... are so very very Important to us!

You... are an Instrumentalist (and a heck of a Clarinet player)

You... are a Composer, making our lives your manuscript. 

You... are a Creator of Dreams.

You... are quite the Performer, having a smile everyday, even when life and career are overwhelming. 

You... are a Mover of peoples hearts, the good in you shines through on all of us. 

Never heard you sing... lol!!

You... have made so many Musicians through your love of people and music(in that order). 

We all have been blessed to have been in your classroom. 

Mrs. Light is just one of the educators along my life’s journey who have made an incredible impact on the lives of so many students.  With so many of her former students now taking the mantle of music educators themselves, I hope she knows that her great opus will always be the students who cherish her classroom. 

Pecola’s Eyes

 

“The Bluest Eye” is going to be one of those books Kaia will be required to read before she is aloud to put on make up.  As a novel it holds a special place in my heart as it opened up my own eyes to my own identity issues and life choices I have made because of them.

As we mourn the lost of the author, Toni Morrison, it will be important that future generations do not forget the truth about images of beauty in this country.   The ugliness that is hate.  The struggle that women face everyday to assimilate to our beauty culture. The destructive path that women are put on from early stages in life to use provocation for attention. These are all my takeaways from TBE and I am so thankful Ms. Morrison’s love letter to all women, but especially those women of color.  

RIP Toni

Dunk You Very Much

Let’s be clear, humanity is lost and in desperate need of a savior.  As we all spin around the Sun on this tilted 3rd Rock, we blindly navigate this life with a limited amount of sunrises and sunsets. Our only hope is in a savior that through each other, we can reflect his love to one another. 

Throughout humanities history, we  have shown tremendous acts of love, but disproportionately amounts of hate to each other.  One of those original forms of hatred manifested itself into slavery in this country.  An unfortunate aspect of slavery is America’s original family separation plan.  See, slaves were separated in order to disrupt the family unit.  With no strong family units, the likelihood of an uprising would be limited at best.  The moment a slave got “all uppity”, they were sold.  This was also used as a fear tactic to control slaves and deter them from running away.  Generations of families were destroyed, separated, and held in bondage.  Father’s never got a chance to raise their children, Mother’s were used as Broodmares instead of nurturers to the AA family.  No legacies, and no direct lineage can ever be attributed due to this practice they spanned 300+ years in America alone. 

Now this blog is not about my admiration for LBJ.  It is more about the perception, that somehow a man who was raised without a father in home, should be chastised for investing time in his family.  For all of his faults, (which their are many) and short comings as an athlete, entrepreneur, and SJW, being present in the lives of his children is not one of them.  

This past weekend his enthusiasm spilt over to the lay up lines with his son. Now, truth be told, if I was 6’8 and a paid athlete, I would like to think that I would be able to dunk a basketball well into my 30’s, nowadays I have trouble  bending over to tie my shoes nevertheless soaring through the air for self alley-oop dunks.  And for the random fan at an AAU tournament, it must have been pretty awesome to watch one of the best of all times in a lay up line with your kid.  Somehow, this was a bad thing. An African American father being not only present, but deeply engaged with his child’s life.  Now the haters will say, “Jordan never got in lay up lines with his boys”, which is probably true, but if you know anything about Michael’s legacy, he was hardly the family man and spent more time in casinos then with his family on Taco Tuesday. 

Before you hit send:

Sometimes we need perspective of time.  It is so limited that we think our few cycles sunrises and sunsets are the only ones that will ever be lived.  Our time here on this planet is a tiny fraction of history that has and will ever be exhibited.  Before we tear down a man for maybe being an over enthusiastic father, let’s take a moment and see where so many father’s (both famous and non famous) are absent on a Saturday morning tournament, LBJ has made the decision to break that cycle that has plagued so many African Americans since their arrival in this country.  However you feel about the player, should not cast a shadow about him as a father.  In know way is LBJ a savior figure that we need, but lets show some more love to each other these days, instead of hate, we only have so much time together.

 $.02