Full Circle

When The Lawyer was a little boy, all of 3rd grade, he became interested in the trumpet. He went to music class and expressed to his teacher that he wanted to learn to play. He attended class for awhile, until his teacher said, “you need to actually have a trumpet to learn to play it.” And that was the end of that.

For awhile.

Then in the sixth grade, while in advanced math class, his teacher put a vinyl album on the turntable that forever changed The Lawyer’s life.

Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass.

The Lawyer heard it. No, The Lawyer felt it,  in his very soul and that was it. That was what he wanted to do. Three years after first wanting to play, he heard what he wanted to play, and began a personal trek to make it happen. Music, trumpet playing, would become his daily drive, his deep desire, his getaway, his life.

He got his hands on more Herb Alpert albums and spent hours each day practicing to perfect every note Herb Alpert played, a perfect emulation. His aunts and uncles would have him come to their house, portable record player and trumpet in tow, and play for them. Fond memories for sure.

The trumpet playing continued through middle school and highschool, his mom putting him out in the laundry room or up in the attic to practice. She’d surely had aplenty.

By the time The Lawyer was in highschool, he was quite the trumpeter, even with all of the moving from town to town his family did. And, perhaps, in spite of his parent’s lack of overwhelming support. It was more a tolerating on their part than an actual enjoyment. But they allowed it none-the-less.

They settled in a small northwest Florida town where The Lawyer finished his highschool career and was awarded membership in the Florida Allstate band and North Carolina Allstate band, where he was first chair in each,  and well on his way in his music career. He was soaking in music theory and still practicing his trumpet hours each day, beating out other trumpeters for first chair in every band he played.

As highschool was drawing to a conclusion, he began to apply for colleges and universities. He was awarded one of only two trumpet scholarships to The University of Miami, in Coral Gables, Florida, where he played in the marching and concert bands as well as the UM symphony. But, of course, that was not nearly enough for The Lawyer. He began to score music for the half-time shows, writing out every note each instrumentalist played. His mentor, Alfred Reed, teaching him fundamentals as well as basic life lessons, as they went. Mr. Reed, a prolific composer, poured generously into The Lawyer and his efforts were not in vain. Not only did The Lawyer excell in the world of music, he also did house repairs for the Reeds, and Mrs. Reed fed him well. It was a mutual admiration. Love of music and love for one another took them all on a lovely journey.

Not only did The Lawyer play for the university, he also played for his supper. The racetrack at Calder in Miami, and other places paid him per note for his expertise. It was nothing for him to play the starting song for the horses or stand on the 50 yard line in a packed Orange Bowl to play a trumpet solo. He knew no limits.

Upon graduation from UM with a major in music , The Lawyer began his first career – middle school band director. He rode those kids hard and expected nothing short of mere perfection from them. And they provided. After a couple years, he moved up to the highschool. His band kids were elated. They loved Mr. B., JB, J Wolf, as they called him, and he loved them. He still is friends with so many of them today, and this author has had the privilege of getting to know many of them as well. And while he was band director extraordinaire, he also played professionally in the symphony, played in chamber quartets, and many other trumpeting opportunities. Always a standout, always the best at what he did.

After seven or so years of directing bands, he hung up his baton and traded in for army green. Flying Blackhawks became his focus for a handful of years. But, guess what? His commanding officers caught wind that he knew music. That he could play, direct, score. So guess who became the new army choir director? Yep. The Lawyer.

When his military career was ended, he attended law school, still playing trumpet on occasion. In fact, all through his life, he’s played on special occasions. Weddings, Christmas services, whatever came up, he was happy to oblige.

As happens to us all, time passes and life goes on, and things change. There’s no more score writing, no more playing in the marching band, no more trumpets at the Christmas service. And that’s ok. There are so very many other things that have taken the place, and they are all good things. That’s not to say the trumpet isn’t dusted off on occasion and this author is blessed to hear a tune or two on the old brass, but nowadays it’s few and far between.

But then something magical happened.

A couple of months ago The Lawyer walked into the home office where I was working and just matter of factly said, “mark off these days on your calendar, we’re taking a trip.” “To where?” I dutifully enquired. He attempted to not tell me, but I was persuasive enough. Well, actually, he was so excited he couldn’t contain it. “Louisville, Kentucky!” he gleefully said.

I’m sorry, what did you say?

Louisville, Kentucky. What ever in the world for?!?!

He smiled big and said, “the Herb Alpert concert!”

To which this author replied, “he’s still alive?!? He’d have to be about a hundred and eight years old!”

Ok, so I over estimated a bit. He’s only 89.

But, oh, how exciting!!! I was just as thrilled as The Lawyer, having myself grown up with The Tijuana Brass albums in the house. What a Whipped Cream and Other Delights concert this would be.

As plans began to be made, obstacles began to be thrown. But they were thwarted. A mediation on the day we want to fly home? Not a problem, we’ll do it via zoom from the hotel and stay an extra day. Worldwide airline software outage causing cancelled flights everywhere? No worries, we’ll rent a car. Nothing is stopping us from getting to Kentucky.

And that’s just what happened.

We made it to the concert in spite of crazy circumstances, including our luggage not making it to Louisville. A quick shopping trip and we were dressed to see a living legend.

We arrived to the concert hall with time to spare, had amazing seats, and anxiously awaited the magic.

And magic it was.

The thrill and excitement of seeing in the flesh and brass the man and trumpet who so inspired one little boy to symphonic success was palpable. This author could feel the depth, enormity of the gravitas, the weight of the circle which had so beautifully come full.

It was majestically heavy, thick and full. All of which this author’s and The Lawyer’s tears confirmed. It was a completion, yet not an end. Most assuredly not an end.

Mr. Alpert, you and your lovely wife have made beautiful music for what seems more than a lifetime, and you continue to do so. You are both most impressive. Thank you for sharing your gift with our world, but most importantly, thank you for sharing it with The Lawyer. Your gift set into motion an exponential amount of musical beauty, and we have all been grateful recipients. Thank you.

And to The Lawyer, My Lawyer, nothing has thrilled my heart more than to watch you out of the corner of my eye while you drank in every second of that concert. The joy of seeing you experience that made my heart full. I’m so incredibly happy for you. Even if you do torture me now and then with those terrible tunes on trumpet that get stuck in my head.