Today I told a friend that I write when I grieve, there may not be enough words for this one.
Ann Alford has finished her concerto and now she has gone home to play for the Lord.
I was at the dentist office this morning waiting to be called to the back. As I scrolled through Facebook, I saw a post from my friend Von, about Ms A passing. I hoped it was someone else, but once I got back to my office I looked further and found out indeed it was her.
My heart immediately broke and I had to take a few minutes outside to myself, all I could think about was how much she loved us, all of us.
We were her band kids, a mis-matched group of high-school students that she challenged, rode hard, and saw reach our potential, all under her watchful eye.
I had quit band in the eight grade, too cool to be a band geek; that is until my 10th grade year when Ms. Alford told me I WOULD be in the symphonic band. I didn’t argue with her, I just signed up.
I wasn’t a very good trumpet player and years away from the horn made me even worse. I sat last seat, but she made me know I was where I belonged. She pushed me and eventually I started to get better.
By the time marching season rolled around in the Fall, I was no longer last seat, I had graduated all the way up to third from last.
Ms. Alford drove us to be our best. When we screwed up, we ran laps, when we didn’t live up to our potential, she had a steely gaze that could melt the toughest exterior, but we never doubted she loved us.
We were her kids and nothing made her prouder than when we did well. As she flailed her arms to the beat, that wicked smile would sneak in and the twinkle in her eyes let us know we had it.
One year, as we were preparing for Marching Festival we had been a mess, it seemed like nothing we did was coming together to the standards Ms. Alford had set for us, not to mention the standards we had set for ourselves.
Thursday afternoon before Festival on Saturday, when it was time for rehearsal, we were instructed to meet Ms. Alford at the practice field and leave our instruments in the band room.
This couldn’t be good.
As we approached the field, I think we all expected to be running laps and marching drills, but when we arrived, cupcakes and drinks awaited us.
We got a pep talk that day about how good we were and how if we just put it all on the field, there was nothing or no one that could beat us. Needless to say, we pulled all Superiors on Saturday beating much larger bands in the process.
Going into Symphonic Band Season, our end of season Festival would be the competition that would prove just how good we were. Symphonic season wasn’t like football season, it was all about technique and skill, not putting on a great show.
On the first day of Symphonic Season, Ms. Alford put two pieces of music in front of us that had more sharps, tempo-changes and notes than most of us had ever seen before.
If I remember correctly the music was “Firebird” and a piece called “Mosque.” (Feel free to correct me if I am wrong.)
As we struggled through those pieces of music, Ms. Alford wouldn’t let us be defeated. We were challenged in ways we never imagined and finally the notes started to fall into place, the tempos came and all those sharps didn’t seem so difficult any longer.
By the time Festival rolled around, we knew we were good, we knew we had it and so did she. We walked onto that stage knowing we were about to blow the roof off and we did.
The smile on Ms. Alford’s face when we finished will always be etched on my heart. Once again we ranked all Superiors and got a standing ovation from the crowd when we hit our last notes.
Ms. Alford knew our potential and she knew how to pull it out of us.
After symphonic season, we began planning for our Spring Concert, my favorite concert of the year.
The Spring Concert featured more familiar songs, ones that we could have fun with. Not long before the spring concert season began, I had been chosen to participate in a regional competition in voice.
One of the pieces of music we would be playing that year during the Spring Concert was selections from the Broadway musical “A Chorus Line.”
Ms. Alford had an idea, I would sing “What I Did for Love,” the big solo number featured in the musical, I would be accompanied by the band. YIKES, nothing like some pressure.
True to form, Ms. Alford coached me through it and on the day of our performance, I stepped to the microphone and did it, I sang accompanied by my fellow band members.
For all the years that I knew her, she was ill, but she never, ever let her illness affect her dedication to us.
She showed up every day, she challenged us and challenged her body to keep going. She was dedicated to us and we were dedicated to her.
The last time I saw Ms. Alford was about eight years ago at my nephew’s High School graduation.
I had spotted her in the crowd shortly after we took our seats and she spotted me about the same time. She smiled, I smiled and I mouthed “I love you.” She smiled brighter.
After the ceremony was over, I made my way over to where she was, “Ken Rumsey, get over here and give me a hug,” she said and I did. I hugged her with all my might and she hugged me right back.
She wanted to know about me and when I asked about how she was, in true Ann Alford form she never complained, she just laughed and said “old and mean.” She was neither, in my eyes and heart, she was still the loving woman who challenged me to be my best.
Ann Alford was more than a teacher. She was an inspiration to a lot of kids that needed it, myself included. She taught us to never settle for anything but our best.
Ms. Alford has now passed, I wish I had gotten to tell her one more time how much she meant to me and how much I loved her, but I suspect she knew that.
We all loved her and when the music fills my heart and my spirit soars, I know she is there, counting the beat and striking up the band.
Thanks Ms. Alford, this band geek owes you more than words can ever express and grieves more at your passing that one blog post can ever relay.