A few weeks have passed and I'm still digesting Oct. 19 - all the energy of singing, reconnecting, refueling and remembering why we do what we do. This year our fall conference happened for me in a completely new way - a visit to Montclair, New Jersey, to speak at a memorial event for a mentor of mine.
His name was Nixon Bicknell (1932-2019) - a musical fixture in my hometown and high school, as exacting as he was incredibly caring. I remember my audition for him, the composition assignment he gave that sparked a young composer's voice, countless rehearsals and concerts, our last performance at graduation, and staying in touch in the years since. After his passing this spring, I was humbled to be invited to speak at a tribute to his memory. Being back in the choral room, reconnecting with teachers and alums, seeing his wife after their 60 + years of marriage, her spirit just as magnetic as I remember - all of that meant the world. But, what to say? How do you capture a long legacy in a few minutes? How do you unpack it for people who remember Nixon well at the same time you unpack it for young singers in the room, more than a generation removed from him?
In the week leading up to this, I kept coming back to one of his Commencement traditions - a piece about last words - and my thoughts went along these lines:
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"What would Nixon want his legacy to be? How would he want to be remembered? His unswerving commitment to excellent performance, yes…his dedication to making our school's music program as strong as possible, yes…but there's something else to take from that Commencement piece about passing the baton. If we pursue justice, if we persevere in tough times, if we show respect for people who are like us as well as those who aren't, if we live our lives with integrity – then we have the potential to bring the hope of sun to a dark world, to be the "light of a morning without clouds". Whatever we're meant to do in life, we can bring rain to other people – the kind of rain that soaks the "grass springing out of the earth" and gives it the nourishment it needs. The baton is ours, now. When it is my time to go – our time to go – will other people say that we brought sun and rain to them? Will they say that being in our presence - for a day, or a month, or years in the same job, or a long-term relationship - made them better, richer people?"
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As I'm typing this, Thanksgiving is around the corner. I was fortunate to learn from someone who believed in my potential, whose influence steered me toward a life in music. ACDA is one-of-a-kind for how it puts us in a community of people who live this - people who inspire and challenge us to be our best selves. People whose lives mix with ours and all the thrilling experiences and mundane tasks and life-giving moments that happen because we sing, and lead others to sing.
Thankful this year for Nixon, and for all of you. For us.