Recently I missed an event at my former school. It's not surprising since I have given that land to Spain if you will. And I have contributed more to the University of Tennessee Chattanooga than my own alma mater over the last 17 years. I mean I didn't go there but I moved and suddenly started getting emails and mailings asking for money and I can't ruin my own good name that way. I mean their own my name. I clearly can ruin my own.
But this week, a thing happened and it brought up a lot of other things. And like any domino, those things needed to be dealt with. Hopefully in a logical, healthy, and non-destructive way.
So obviously I made an angry Facebook post. About how the church had failed me. How it's messed up that when my wife and children moved their membership from our church in Kentucky. Instead of the church being like, hey that's odd. Let's check in with this guy. They instead derostered my ass. (For the non-Lutherans, that's like excommunication but Lutheran and way less binding. Bring a check and you'll be fine)
Crap. I did it again. I made it about me. I do that. I'm a self-hating narcissist. Ironically my therapist says that isn't a real thing but wow, are they wrong.
A point, not obviously the real point because I am still in active therapy and make everything about me, is that I didn't get to sing at a really awesome person's retirement. I haven't been in that building in years. But I do wish I could have sang.
Not because I believe every lyric. But because I believe in the person.
Dr Dave is a talented, passionate and driven man. But I will never forget the day he looked in my eyes and broke a rule because it was the right thing.
Choir tour junior year. We were barely in Canada. But still in Canada. Outside of Toronto. I had just the bad before done a less than passable job at singing some solos in Handel's Messiah. A piece that you don't fuck with. I felt embarrassed and I didn't think my choir director was all that pleased with me.
We performed at a church, maybe it was Canada maybe it was Michigan, who can really tell the difference. And my girlfriend at the time collapsed. Maybe the travel. Maybe not having regular meals. Maybe whatever. But she couldn't stand.
We finished the concert. She had some water but still wasn't feeling right. So it was determined that she would go to the hospital. I don't know that I sang a word after I saw her get light-headed. I might have stood in my spot but by the time it was over I wasn't going to leave her side.
I was not family. Whether we were in Michigan or Canada or a bit of both, I had to right to go. But as the volunteers were getting her ready to go to get checked out, all it took was one look. One moment of eye contact. The rules said I couldn't go. But Dr. Dave said I could.
Things turned out fine. Some fluids and some allergy meds and we were back at the host home before too late. The next day we rejoined the rest of the crew and finished the tour.
I do have a strong recollection that we were in Canada because I leaned against the wrong wall in the er and suddenly Mounties showed up. but all memories are flawed.
But what I do clearly remember is in the midst of a weird situation. When bylaws and rules would say that I can't go. Dr. Dave looked me in the eyes and let me go. Maybe because you don't argue with a Winegarden in Canada, but more likely because he was given the opportunity to make a choice and he did what he thought was right.
He's an amazing choir director. Not two years later as my wife at the time was singing with the Boston Pops in their Tanglewood chorus, the living personification of Gilderoy Lockhart who was directing the pops knew his name.
But I will always remember the moment he let me follow the one I loved even if it wasn't protocol. He cared. I don't know if you can ask for more from a teacher.
