That's Jazz.
It honestly doesn’t feel like it’s over. That feeling, that electric thrill that goes through your body when you pour your heart and soul, your love, your madness, every single last ounce of emotion and passion pumping through your veins into your horn, and when that sound comes out and back into your ears, and you feel it, and you’re a part of it, and you can say, "That’s Jazz," then that is Jazz. You see, Jazz never ends. Jazz is timeless. Ever since its very roots in the oral traditions and songs of African Americans in bondage, Jazz has grown and expanded and has become what it is today. Regardless of the past, present, or future of Jazz, it, like all other great arts, has taken a lodging spot in the hearts and deep down into the souls of men and women everywhere, and as long as it’s passed down to us, and we hand it down to the next generation of children who haven’t even been conceived in their mothers’ mind, Jazz will never die. Jazz will never end.
This afternoon, I had every intention of coming home tonight and ranting and raving about how mom wouldn’t let me stay for the Huntington Symphony Pops concert, how I was so upset about it I missed the group picture, how I had to struggle to pull myself together for our own performance, how my mom hung up on me three times while I was trying to convince her to allow me to ride home with the Burkerts, how if Janice, Mike, Sam, and Meghan weren’t there for me, I would’ve been even more upset than I was, and I was so upset I didn’t want anything to touch me or talk to me there for a while, how it seemed like my mom had robbed me of the grand finale of a spectacularmundo week, including the fireworks they were going to have, but in the end, after everything has been said and done, I can’t do anything but let it be and move on.
I’ve come to a startling conclusion. Everything bad in my life has a good counterpart, and vice versa. For example, we’ll start with the jaw-dropping week and the lack of stayage for the Pops concert. Next, I should probably add the part about the NEW YAMAHA TENOR SAXOPHONE SITTING IN MRS. SMALLEY’S OFFICE THAT MR. ARMSTRONG DIDN’T BRING TO ME BECAUSE HE WAS AFRAID SHE’D GET MAD and my mother’s diagnosis of diabetes on Thursday on top of everything else she’s got wrong with her. Then there’s Meghan’s biting me and Meghan’s biting me. I’ve never worried about any other of my mom’s health problems, and I’m sure not going to start with this one. God’ll have his will and his way done no matter that. And while I’m on the subject of "bad things," I may as well recall Wednesday night. Mr. Armstrong had given me one of his cell phones and told me to call when I was ready. Well, after the Bluetrane concert, I head over to the dorms with some other campers and called around 10:20. Charles, their son, told me that his mother was out there waiting for me. So, I say my goodbyes and run back over to Jomie. I see their van sitting, there, empty, and Kay walks out and chews me out. The next morning, Armstrong chews me out, saying I could’ve gotten shot like the people involved in the quadruple homicide in Huntington a few weeks ago because like them, I wasn’t where I said I was going to be. That is, according to me, because I never said I’d be at Jomie. They also told me to have priorities.. and I do. Friends and band, and church, of course, have always came first. Then Nikki, one of the camp counselors and a sax player at Marshall tells me that Armstrong had been rather rude to some of her friends because of it. So yeah, that kinda took me off of the happy place ‘cause they bought a new saxophone. I hit a wonderful emotional high and snap like that, I’m floored.
But I can’t badmouth the Armstrongs. At all. And I do mean, at all. They were kind enough to me in the first place to let me stay with them for an entire week, feed me, drive me back and forth, sacrifice their time, money, and effort for me, and overall, they treated me like one of the family. They were so incredibly good to me, I just can’t thank them enough. Because of them, so many doors have been opened up to me not only as a musician, not only as a person, but also in the world of jazz and in the realm of love. I’ve met people this week that I will remember for the rest of my life. These memories that’ve been forged at Jazz-MU-Tazz may fade away - eventually - but the experience, the raw feeling of the knowledge of jazz won’t. I had no clue what I was stepping into when I first walked into the Jomie Jazz Center on Monday morning, but it was worth every moment, every cent, every ounce of effort, and I have zero regrets. It was a remarkable experience, and one that I’ll look back on for a long while to come.
Other highlights of the week include the thousands of "your mom" jokes I cracked, the ketchup smiley faces I’d put on people’s plates at lunch and dinner when they walked off, seeing Briana at the Harless Dining Hall. Meeting all these awesome people, like Meghan, Sam, Janice, and Mike.. Meghan biting me throughout the week and ponytailing my hair all over the place on Friday, the black guys who checked out Meghan, the time they put my shoe in the toilet. I had the opportunity to play and solo with the Backyard Dixie Jazz Stompers on Friday night. But perhaps the most enthralling person I’ve met in a long time is BYRON STRIPLING. He had a profound impact and influence on me, he inspired me and gave us all an insight into what true Jazz really is. He went from speaking about music to about women… the natural direction all conversation, of course. Ah. Good times, good times. Meghan is also trying to put together a jazz band, but she still needs a rhythm section, and probably some trumpets and a trombone or two - preferably people who live around Hurricane. Then there's the time that Mr. Armstrong fell down the stairs at his house Saturday morning... he didn't get hurt, but looking back, it was funny. He broke the closet door.
Also, as a result of this camp, I’ve come up with at least five reasons why it’s hard for me to get a girl:
- They’re already going out with somebody.
- They live too far away.
- They just plain ole’ don’t like me.
- They’re too close of a friend and wouldn’t feel comfortable with it.
- They're not Christian in any way, shape, or form.
…only of which the first two were true at camp.
One more thing: I’m getting all four of my wisdom teeth surgically cut out tomorrow account they’re all impacted. I’m so not looking forward to that. Somebody pray for me.
This one time at band camp...
...the end.