Retirement Presence

     I’ve been to what seems like a lot of retirement ceremonies lately.  That’s part of getting older and having acquaintances, and some mean more than others because some relationships have endured longer than others.  My own was a small event, highly appropriate because it occurred in a small town in South Georgia, and several people attended. Some came because they liked me and some because they were glad to see me go, but I didn’t spend any time trying to sort out which was which because it was a last minute, thrown together affair by people that meant well, and I appreciated their thoughts if not those of the others. Retirement, after all, is what Mama used to call a left handed compliment; sort of like “Hey, congratulations on getting too old to work” or “you don’t sweat much for a fat guy.” Not exactly high praise, but it’s always better to think it was well intended than not.

     I remember reading that Roman Legionnaires were given a retirement for long service or if they were disabled during a war and began a tradition of financial support after extended military service in many countries through the centuries.  There were even, in some countries, small benefits paid to the families of soldiers that didn’t survive whatever war or conflicts that happened to occur during their time of service.  It wasn’t much, but most people, especially those working on their own farms or in their own businesses never got to retirement because there wasn’t any if your family didn’t provide it for you. I can imagine that working until you were too old to be productive would be one way of getting your family to support you (Hey Pop, can you get Grandpa out of the way so I can get some work done?), either that, or they sent you off in the woods to fend for yourself until cruel nature took its course.

     In the 1880’s German Chancellor Otto von Bismark (the one they named the battleship after), began a mandatory retirement plan that employees, employers and the government all paid into, and disability benefits were included as a part of the program. Also around that time, teachers, police, firemen and others began offering retirement plans in some US cities for their members, and many companies began to offer retirement benefits in attempts to attract and keep valuable employees. Franklin Roosevelt made the Social Security system reality in 1935, and it worked pretty well until Congress figured out they could steal from the system and use the money to fund pet projects and never pay it back, so you see why we got where we are today when they talk about SS “running out of money.” Congress voted themselves “Golden Parachute” retirements that cost our government millions each year with no reference to the quality of their service that I believe are symptomatic of their belief in their own self-importance and are, in my opinion, an abomination worthy of the criminal class they have become. Fie upon their deceitful little un-American hearts.

     When I was in the 7th grade at Hardy Junior High School, I was interested in band and discovering girls and never once thought of retirement, my own or anyone else's. That changed a few years later when I started working and began to notice how much was taken out of my check each month for both SS and the teacher retirement program.  Retirement was so far away, I thought, that not only could I not see the light at the end of the tunnel, I wasn't sure that I was even in the right tunnel at all.  I thought seriously about moving to a county that didn’t participate in SS, and discovered there are several scattered around many states, but you almost have to be born there to fit in with the locals, so that didn’t pan out. I also discovered that a county could vote themselves out of SS participation, but with the number of elderly citizens I saw in the place I was working, that didn’t seem to be a viable option, so I endured the financial pain and suffering and now, for the foreseeable future, have become one of those that thinks maybe FDR wasn’t so dumb after all. However, I digress.

     We drove to Oxford MS to attend the retirement of one of my oldest friends. David and I had known each other since I was in 7th grade and he was in the 8th.  We went on to high school at Provine and were even roommates at Ole Miss for a while and even played in a couple of rock groups together.  We were both high school band directors in different towns, and he became director at our alma mater 32 years ago. I’m pretty sure Oxford has moved a couple of hundred miles west since I had last been there in the 1980’s, and while I was familiar with the basic layout of the town, when we finally got there all the frou-frou additions that I’m sure appeared gradually but hit me all at once had obscured many of the places I knew and stuck in thousands of new stores and apartments and houses and restaurants that left me with no idea where anything was anymore, including me. The university had grown from the 8,000 or so that I knew to almost 24,000, and I’m pretty sure most of them were out on the square listening to music and hopping from bar to bar as they studied for their final exams. It’s a skill not every student masters, and if you notice carefully the ones that drift away to their dorms or apartments around 9 or so will probably be the ones attending their 8am class tomorrow with expectations of continued enrollment next fall. Those that stumble into bed around 2am and sleep through their classes will be stamped “return to sender” and become rabid football fans.

    The town seems to have covered up much of its quaint charm in an attempt to separate students from as much of their parent’s money as possible, but some of the old stuff is still there if you look hard enough.  Occasionally, while driving around or at odd moments I would have a memory of something from long ago reach over and tap me on the shoulder and say quietly “hey, you remember me don’t you?” and I would silently reply “Why yes, now that you mention it I do” and keep on driving because I knew if I stopped and thought it through I would be spending hours on the side of the road staring into space remembered things that weren’t there anymore and people that had gone on to other things and other places and Betsy would have her phone out quietly searching for “reasonably priced assisted living facilities near me.”

     As befitting a ceremony for a bando like David, a concert was arranged. The first group to perform was the Symphonic Band and the second to perform was made up of David’s students from as recently as last year and even a few from the 1990’s and everywhere in between. They were all accomplished musicians, and it was easy to see they were all happy to be there to help the Retiree celebrate a life of teaching not just music, but life. My old friend Bubba and his wife Gail sat next to us and provided entertaining (but quiet) conversation in between numbers. Being a lawyer, he was surprised, for example, that old fingers could still move that fast, and that tubas could double tongue just like other instruments and other entertaining and interesting observations. We both wondered if the lady that brought her baton (she was my age and was in the band when Colonel Rebel was still a corporal) was going to twirl onstage. She didn’t, but said she was prepared to if called upon.  Bubba still sounds like he eats grits 3 times a day and could probably win a judgment against you in court and you would still be his best friend the next morning. Probably. He reminds me of Matlock - country, but deadly.

     During the performance of Russian Christmas Music, a couple of those memories floating in the background tapped me on the shoulder again, and I looked up and saw a bunch of my kids, all still about 17 or so, sitting on stage and playing. It was easy to recognize Kevin, Shane, Michelle, Karen and Andrea, and I had to look carefully to see Rocky and David, Jason, Ellen, John, Colin, Mitch and too many others to list here…there they all were looking up at the conductor and clearly carried away by the music and I started leaking a few small tears, slowly at first but a few surreptitious wipes of my handkerchief took care of those, but it grew into darn near the ugly cry level a few minutes later and I decided this retirement was just as much for me as it was for David, and all my kids had conspired and gathered to make sure I knew it.  I know Betsy noticed the whole thing but pretended not to see me blubbering like a baby right there next to her.  She’s good like that.

     I eventually composed myself enough to stand up and clap after the last number, but I was clapping for reasons nobody else had seen. It was for all the kids onstage and all the adults in the audience and all of my kids that had been there and quietly disappeared into wherever memories go, whose lives had been changed for the better by music, by band and by what they learned about life by being a part of creating something bigger than just themselves.

     It was always my goal from the moment I had first begun teaching to change the world through music, but I had imagined some sort of musical revolution where teenagers would be able to say more about why they liked this music or that one than just “it’s got a great beat and you can dance to it.”  It became a matter of teaching personal responsibility, personal motivation and self-discipline through individual and group achievement, and building a love and knowledge of music and social responsibility all rolled into one without it having to be written on the board as a daily reminder. It was one of those mysterious transformations that God brings about, sometimes without us even knowing it at the time, and only through reflection and the changes in perception that come with age that we are lucky enough to realize that’s exactly what happened.  It was a revolution that happened one kid at a time and not all at once; we did change lives for the better in spite of some of the stupid things we did.  What more can anyone ask from God or from life?  Music is a catalyst that has the power to change lives for good in so many ways that seem to have so little to do with music.  Thank you, David for showing me that in real time, and thanks to all those students that showed up to celebrate, both on stage and in my memories.