I wonder if you learned to play an instrument?  If you were raised by a musical parent, you might have started with piano lessons about the time you learned to read, and you might have transitioned to a second instrument (or not) when you were a little older.  If you lived in a larger town with orchestra opportunities, you might have been introduced to making music with violin lessons.  If “rocker family” better described the family you were raised in and your dad (or mom) relived glory years with a garage band on the weekends, you might have gummed on drum sticks while teething.  Whatever the instrument, the following stroll down my personal Memory Lane might be something you can relate to.

I come from a family of band directors and the expectation was certainly that I would play a wind instrument.  In fact, one of my dad’s first observations about me after birth was my long fingers.  My mom recalls that he mentioned very early on that my fingers would be just right for the oboe.

My grandfather, Floren Thompson, Jr., was an extraordinary clarinetist, was the band director at ENMU from 1950-1987 and was Professor Emeritus from 1988 until his passing in 2002.  My grandmother, Mary Thompson, was a classically trained pianist, cellist, and percussionist.  My father, Floren Thompson III (Butch Thompson), played many instruments with the proficiency of a veteran band director but was exceptional at and claimed the clarinet as his primary instrument.  He was a band director for 29 years directing bands in Missouri, Utah, Arizona, Texas, and New Mexico.  My dad’s sister, Susan (Thompson) Harding, directed both bands and orchestras in New Mexico for 30 years and excelled on both the cello and the oboe.

My memories of afternoons at Roswell High School’s band hall begin when I was 6 and was in the 1^st grade.  I remember doing homework occasionally in my dad’s office while listening to him work with his high school students.  I spent hours during summer band camp learning marching basics with the high school students and took baton lessons from one of my dad’s twirlers.  I even performed a twirling “solo” at a judged competition.  I’m cringing as I type, remembering my white plastic snow boots, red polyester long-sleeved twirling costume that was 2 sizes too big, and white plastic top-hat.  I can’t remember the song I twirled to, but I remember marching out to perform that song with the band during their home game half-time shows that year.

As best I can recall, I was in 2^nd or 3^rd grade when my dad began letting me experiment with my first clarinet in his office at Roswell High.  He showed me the basics as I began to learn correct embouchure, posture and breathe support for the clarinet.  I don’t remember learning notes or songs then.  In fact, I don’t even remember getting to use a reed at that point, but I enjoyed putting the horn together and “playing” songs as I experimented with the fingerings and blew through the mouthpiece of a small E-flat clarinet.

When I was in the 5^th grade, I began orchestra at Valley View Elementary.  The school did not offer band until 6^th grade.  My violin career was short lived as my mom, my sisters, and I moved to Utah right after Thanksgiving to join my dad and brother who had moved the previous summer.  I don’t remember playing the clarinet in Utah, but when we moved to Springerville, Arizona for 6^th grade my band years finally began.  I worked hard and played a challenging solo in spring of that year, earning my first “1+” rating.  That experience motivated me to continue on the clarinet.  I would like to say that I worked very hard on my craft but quite honestly the clarinet came very naturally to me.

I’d had so much luck with that particular solo in 6^th grade, I played it again the following year.  Mental note -I’ve got to find that solo for Emma in the next couple of years.  I also mastered the junior high audition piece for all-region honor band that year (it must have been 1986) earning first chair as a 7^th grader from Hart, Texas.  Have you ever been to Hart?  If you ever ventured off the beaten path on an old farm to market road somewhere between Lubbock and Amarillo and sneezed a time or two you might have driven through without knowing it.

I’m going to confess that I kept the same solo the following year in Clayton, New Mexico (3 years, 3 new schools I might as well I reasoned) and sat 1^st chair in the high school band.  Ever been to Clayton? 2^nd verse, same as the first…  While in Clayton I expanded my marching band experience to include the tenor sax, the coldest marching band performance of my life, and the glamorous world of a drum major (I’m cringing again as I recall my drum major uniform.  When exactly is a ruffled dickie ever appropriate?  And, if you happened to be there and were a part of the Clayton High School band at the time, I’m so sorry).  While my dad was our band director in 6th-9^th grades, he took a medical leave when I was a sophomore and when my grandmother passed away that Fall my dad, Herschel and I moved to Portales.

Portales was a game changer for me.  Although I had the opportunity to participate with large ensembles at All-Region, All-District, and All-State, I’d never really been challenged daily on the clarinet nor had I ever played day in and day out with a high caliber band.   Mr. Pat Henry was the PHS band director at the time and I consider myself fortunate to have been in the 1989-1992 PHS bands.  The rigor of both marching band and concert band repertoire and rehearsal set the bar high, providing a needed “sharpening”.  Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana, the music of Cats and Les Miserables and Mozart’s clarinet concertos hold a special place in my heart as does the late Pat Henry.

I have to tell a story on Mr. Henry.  My name, while one would guess that it is pronounced “Maria”(from its spelling Marea) is actually pronounced as though it rhymes with sea and tea.  My mother (Carolyn Marea) claims  its German and it is a family name from my great-grandmother (Marea Johanna, 1892-1947).  Anyway, I do not believe Mr. Henry ever pronounced it right, and I corrected him often.  As an adult, I rarely correct someone.  I’m not sure that it was intentional, but I think I learned a lesson from Mr. Henry regarding my name and my pride in its pronunciation.  He might have been teaching me a more generalized lesson on pride, come to think of it.  Back to my name, it honestly doesn’t bother me in the least when someone calls me “Maria”.  In fact, our Pastor of 7 years calls me Maria and I’ve not ever considered correcting him.

Since we’re on the subject, I might as well apologize to my former Portales High School band peers as well.  I was pretty prideful about myself in general in high school.  I might even have crossed the “bully” line a time or two (or twenty) to get my way and for that I’m truly sorry.

I continued to play daily for just one year at ENMU and have blogged about my declaration of a major changing several times.  I have enjoyed playing with the ENMU band alumni every other summer but haven’t played much in between knowing that both of my horns, my dad’s Selmer and my Yamaha, were in desperate need of over-due maintenance .  When we decided to start Emma on clarinet this year I had both serviced and I have begun to “play” again, teaching our youngest 2 the basics (putting the horn together with proper care and open G) the past 2 weeks.  Emma’s braces are a frustration to her, but she enjoys the time with mom if nothing else.  Caden loves it and I can’t wait to watch both of them train the natural musician that is obviously inside.

I remember a few piano lessons with a teen-aged girl who lived across the street from us.  I’m not sure why I didn’t take lessons for long, but Jolly Old St. Nickolas was as far I got on the piano as a child.  I had piano fever again for a week or so when I was in high school and learned to play several measures of Richard Marx’s Right Here Waiting for You.

My husband, Franklin, began piano at 6 and continues to play every day.  In fact, his piano playing pays the bills around here.  He wanted all three of our children to begin piano in the first grade as he had.  Bailey and Emma took from Franklin’s childhood piano teacher, Mrs. Eunice Schumpert, until this year when, because of a significantly tightened budget, Franklin began lessons with our children.  He didn’t think he’d have the patience for it but is enjoying his time with them.

I mentioned that all three of our children began piano right after their 7^th birthday.  Emma and Caden are beginning their horn journeys this year but I’ve not mentioned our oldest Bailey.  I’ve probably chosen to deal with his piece of this story last as it’s been a struggle and an opportunity for growth as “mom” for me this year.

Bailey began the French horn in the 6^th grade.  Despite his inconsistent practice habits those first few years, Bailey developed a beautiful tone and mastered the fundamentals of the horn.  When he began marching band in high school, I couldn’t have been more proud.  He had perfect form; a tall, straight back with perfect heel-toe steps.  He could be counted on to be on the right foot and gave complete attention to detail during every performance.  Rehearsal was likely another story as Bailey is quite my opposite.  He is a true otter golden retriever mix.

Bailey participated in band “leadership” as a sophomore but opted to travel to Haiti with a mission’s organization that summer rather than attend leadership camp and summer band.  He came home from Haiti and broached the subject of quitting band.  He wanted to focus on his academics, choir, media arts, tennis, and music ministry at our church and was feeling a bit overwhelmed.  Franklin and I dug our heels in, requiring that he participate for the year.

With the exception of slamming a door in anger once in the 6^th grade, Bailey has never been disrespectful to us.  God has blessed us with an easy first-born.  He is the life of the room, his smile is infectious and you would be hard pressed to find a more sincere 17 year old.  Although Bailey does not have to be out the door in the mornings until 9:00, he participates in our family Bible study at 6:45 in the morning and helps with housework and his younger siblings whenever he is asked.  He is certainly still learning what being an adult means, but his heart is bent toward his Heavenly Father and we couldn’t ask for more.

When we began talking about his senior year last Spring, Bailey mentioned again that he did not feel like band was where his attention needed to be focused for his final year in high school.  He was planning to take 9 hours of concurrent enrollment at ENMU, he wanted to look for a job, he was planning to continue leading worship for the children and youth services on Wednesday and Sunday at Victory Life, and would have to take both OA to participate in tennis in the Spring and PE to fulfill one of his final graduation requirements.  Again, Franklin and I gave it little thought.  We told Bailey that if Praise and Worship ministry was what he felt called to for his future career, we felt band (a musical experience) could certainly benefit him.  Although he mentioned it 3-4 times, he never pressed the issue when we reiterated our opinion.

Bailey left for the month of July to participate in a youth leadership position at Christ for the Nations Institute in Dallas.  While he was gone, God really challenged me regarding Bailey and band.  We have asked Bailey to trust God and look to Him for guidance, and if God was leading him to quit band and had been consistent in telling him to do so, what did our refusal tell Bailey?  Did it communicate to Bailey that we expected him to pray, and trust God’s leading but that we weren’t going to trust that he (Bailey) was able to hear God’s call accurately?  Were we telling him that we didn’t trust that he could be thoughtful in considering his future and weighing the complexities of this decision?  Were we telling Bailey that we did not have confidence in his intellect?  Were we driving him away in our quick response?  Would he, down the road, decide not to seek our counsel if he believed we might not see eye-to-eye with him?

And why were we saying “no”?  When Franklin and I listed all the reasons we wanted Bailey to continue to participate (and there were many) we were struck that the overwhelming majority were based on pleasing people.  Franklin and I are both guilty of saying “yes” (often at our family’s expense) rather than saying “no” if we believe someone might be inconvenienced or disappointed.

When Bailey returned home he and I were running errands and I told him about the conversations Franklin and I had had and that he had our blessing to quit band if he truly felt God was closing that door to open another.  I challenged him to weigh the decision carefully.  Without hesitation he asked what the process would be to quit and asked me to drive him to the band hall.

What do you do when your child prioritizes and successfully balances life but eliminates an activity that has such a strong emotional tie for you?  I think the more significant questions I’m wrestling with are;  What do you do when your child becomes an adult and you’re months away from him “leaving the nest”?  How do you know that you’ve successfully “raised” your child?  The answer is a no brainer, isn’t it?  You pray.

Heavenly Father, we trust you completely with Bailey.  You created him and know him more intimately than we do or anyone will in all his days.  You love him completely and will faithfully extend your grace and provision in his life.  We believe You are working in his life and that he will be a light in the lives of many as You guide him Lord, that You will be glorified.  We believe he will bear much fruit.  Thank you giving us the opportunity to love him and speak into his life.  Give us wisdom as we continue to parent; wisdom to know when to push and when to release in the coming years.  Amen.