The Perpetual Click

If music is perpetual, then so are life's enduring friendships. Some friendships are like a trusty metronome, the one that went click, click, click, all those years ago in the solitude of a late-night practice room. Just me, my instrument and that metronome. Turn the dial to 112 beats per minute, and off it goes. Go home for spring break, come back, plug it back in and off it goes, 112 beats per minute. Throw it in the closet for the summer and pull it out in September. Plug it back in and off it goes. Never misses. Always there to keep you on track.

I've discovered that some friendships are like that. It's been almost 24 years since I graduated from Furman University. I made some dear friends during my tenure on campus there. Most of these folks I rarely see, but when I do, the strangest thing happens. We can go 5 or 6 years without seeing each other and then when we meet, it's as if we never parted ways. We see each other and there goes the metronome, click, click, click.

Last week a few of us met in an informal reunion at Furman. The occasion was the Furman University Wind Ensemble concert for the South Carolina Band Directors Association All-State Band clinic. The concert was billed as a tribute to the late Dan A. Ellis, director emeritus of the Furman University Bands. My old roommate, Michael Brown (now of US Army Band fame), composed a piece in memory of Mr. Ellis. In "Symphonic Portrait", Michael took several themes familiar to the Furman family and wove them together in a very moving selection for wind band.

Several of the old gang met for a pre-concert dinner at the Thaicoon in the old University Square. We had a wonderful time at the concert and then closed out the evening with coffee and dessert at Ruby Tuesday's in Cherrydale.

Funny thing about that metronome. As soon as I saw those faces, the clicking began. There was plenty of laughter, smiles, hugs and tears as we shared and created memories late into the night. The Rainbow drive-in is still there, along with Capri's and Pete's (I'll have a jumbo cheese, all onion rings with a chocolate peanut butter banana shake). The aroma of Dan Ellis' pipe has faded from the halls of the Daniel Music Building, but, for a few hours at least, it was 1984 again.

"The years are rolling by me, they are rocking evenly. I am older than I once was, and younger than I'll be but that's not unusual. No, it isn't strange. After changes upon changes, we are more or less the same." -- Paul Simon.

I love you all, and miss you very much. I truly do.

(L-R: Jeff Kuntz, Janet Kuntz, Evans Newell, Cindy Newell, Keith Dover, Michael Brown, Ken Cothran, Johnny Tucker)