Threnody (pt.2)
This is what I said before the Threnody premiere at Chippewa Falls High School on Saturday. It is times like this that I wish I were Yeats or Kipling -- able to shape terse phrases into a poignant, insightful anecdote that would set the mood perfectly for the music the audience was about to hear. But I know this performance was not about me, or this new piece -- it was all about those 5 friends and loved ones for whom this piece, and this concert, was dedicated to.
It is the following morning, and I am in a Best Western in Mauston, Wisconsin -- halfway between Chippewa Falls and Chicago. Nicki is still sleeping, and I still wish I was Yeats or Kipling, so I could describe what an intensely powerful experience it was to be part of that audience. This was not a band concert in a high school gymnasium -- it was a congregation of a community, so genuinely open to expressing their love for the gift of life, their gratitude for what others had brought into their lives, and the joy of music which they could all share in.
It is worth taking a moment to say that the music-making was really quite extraordinary, and a tribute to the directors and educators involved in the music programs up there. Some of the performances were a tribute, some were a lamentation. Some were a celebration of life, and some provided a moment's pause. But they were all tight, well-rehearsed, and bursting with musical expression.
It is difficult to say what was most moving to witness. Throughout the concert, you could look around the room and see audience members weeping openly. Most of the alumni choked back tears, and struggled to finish their speeches. You could also see musicians fighting to hold it together so they could continue to perform.
There was a moment when we were asked to recognize the first-responders -- the paramedics, firemen, police, and emergency evac pilots who'd been there to save the victims of that accident -- and when the 15-20 people in uniform stood, the audience overflowed with gratitude. I am moved even now as I remember the faces of those people who, in the course of "just doing their job" that night, were able to provide aid at that critical moment, and make such a difference in so many lives.
Perhaps the most amazing display of composure, character and dignity was demonstrated by Brian Collicott, one of the directors at Chi-Hi, who is still in the process of recovering from his injuries. He moved to the microphone confidently, and without the slightest indication of the pain or stiffness he was undoubtedly experiencing. Rather than preparing a speech, he spoke plainly, sharing his memories about each person, and referring to them by their first names, just as he had known them. There was never an awkward pause or moment of inarticulation in his speech, and I had a sense of the deep well of courage and personal strength -- the kind that comes from surviving and overcoming such terrible injury, and such tragic loss -- that Brian expressed for everyone in the room.
There were the moments Nicki and I were able to share individually with the musicians and family members. Even meeting them for the first time, I could immediately see what they had been through. For some, it was the scars on their faces, or explanations of the surgeries and treatments they were still undergoing. In many more, you could see it very plainly in their eyes, and hear it in the stories they chose to share with me.
And for a few, it was still pain beyond words, beyond expression, beyond anything that anyone could do for them. In these few instances, we just gave them hugs. I'm honestly not sure whether the hugs were for them, or for us... but that was all we could possibly offer them in that moment.
I regret not being able to spend more time with a few people who I'd become acquainted with before the concert. I was hoping to meet Courtney, who had been thoughtful enough to email me while I was still finishing the piece. I would have liked to have a little more time with Bill, a BCM forumite who came up from Nashville for this performance (and I am SO SORRY I couldn't remember your name! I had so much on my mind... ). I wanted to meet Tom Arneberg, who had put a great deal of work into creating a website to memorialize and update everyone on the accident -- I read EVERYTHING on that site, looked at every picture, and went to just about every single link. I was really hoping to personally thank Brady Nyhus for writing his account of the accident, which I read countless times, and gave me the best sense of what it was like.
I want to thank Bryan Jaeckl for contacting me to create this piece, and spearheading the commission consortium. I want to thank Andrei Strizek and Brian Collicott for being such gracious hosts at Chi-Hi. I want to thank Dr. Richard Mark Heidel for conducting such a sensitive and compelling performance of Threnody, and the wind ensemble from University of Wisconsin at Eau Claire and seniors from Chi-Hi for playing it so beautifully. And more than anything, I want to thank the entire community of Chippewa Falls for including me in this incredibly powerful, life-affirming event.
It is the following morning, and I am in a Best Western in Mauston, Wisconsin -- halfway between Chippewa Falls and Chicago. Nicki is still sleeping, and I still wish I was Yeats or Kipling, so I could describe what an intensely powerful experience it was to be part of that audience. This was not a band concert in a high school gymnasium -- it was a congregation of a community, so genuinely open to expressing their love for the gift of life, their gratitude for what others had brought into their lives, and the joy of music which they could all share in.
It is worth taking a moment to say that the music-making was really quite extraordinary, and a tribute to the directors and educators involved in the music programs up there. Some of the performances were a tribute, some were a lamentation. Some were a celebration of life, and some provided a moment's pause. But they were all tight, well-rehearsed, and bursting with musical expression.
It is difficult to say what was most moving to witness. Throughout the concert, you could look around the room and see audience members weeping openly. Most of the alumni choked back tears, and struggled to finish their speeches. You could also see musicians fighting to hold it together so they could continue to perform.
There was a moment when we were asked to recognize the first-responders -- the paramedics, firemen, police, and emergency evac pilots who'd been there to save the victims of that accident -- and when the 15-20 people in uniform stood, the audience overflowed with gratitude. I am moved even now as I remember the faces of those people who, in the course of "just doing their job" that night, were able to provide aid at that critical moment, and make such a difference in so many lives.
Perhaps the most amazing display of composure, character and dignity was demonstrated by Brian Collicott, one of the directors at Chi-Hi, who is still in the process of recovering from his injuries. He moved to the microphone confidently, and without the slightest indication of the pain or stiffness he was undoubtedly experiencing. Rather than preparing a speech, he spoke plainly, sharing his memories about each person, and referring to them by their first names, just as he had known them. There was never an awkward pause or moment of inarticulation in his speech, and I had a sense of the deep well of courage and personal strength -- the kind that comes from surviving and overcoming such terrible injury, and such tragic loss -- that Brian expressed for everyone in the room.
There were the moments Nicki and I were able to share individually with the musicians and family members. Even meeting them for the first time, I could immediately see what they had been through. For some, it was the scars on their faces, or explanations of the surgeries and treatments they were still undergoing. In many more, you could see it very plainly in their eyes, and hear it in the stories they chose to share with me.
And for a few, it was still pain beyond words, beyond expression, beyond anything that anyone could do for them. In these few instances, we just gave them hugs. I'm honestly not sure whether the hugs were for them, or for us... but that was all we could possibly offer them in that moment.
I regret not being able to spend more time with a few people who I'd become acquainted with before the concert. I was hoping to meet Courtney, who had been thoughtful enough to email me while I was still finishing the piece. I would have liked to have a little more time with Bill, a BCM forumite who came up from Nashville for this performance (and I am SO SORRY I couldn't remember your name! I had so much on my mind... ). I wanted to meet Tom Arneberg, who had put a great deal of work into creating a website to memorialize and update everyone on the accident -- I read EVERYTHING on that site, looked at every picture, and went to just about every single link. I was really hoping to personally thank Brady Nyhus for writing his account of the accident, which I read countless times, and gave me the best sense of what it was like.
I want to thank Bryan Jaeckl for contacting me to create this piece, and spearheading the commission consortium. I want to thank Andrei Strizek and Brian Collicott for being such gracious hosts at Chi-Hi. I want to thank Dr. Richard Mark Heidel for conducting such a sensitive and compelling performance of Threnody, and the wind ensemble from University of Wisconsin at Eau Claire and seniors from Chi-Hi for playing it so beautifully. And more than anything, I want to thank the entire community of Chippewa Falls for including me in this incredibly powerful, life-affirming event.
5 Comments:
Mr. Bonney,
My name is Pat Bents, and I am an alumnus of UW - Eau Claire, a music educator, and was a close friend with Branden. I was at the concert yesterday in Chippewa Falls, and I wanted to let you know how thankful I am for your composition. This is one sure way that the memories and legacies of those lost will endure, and that their influence will continue to be felt. Once the piece becomes available, I will be getting a copy, and when I play it with my students, I can recall and pass on the influence and memory of some extraordinary people. Thank you again.
Dear Mr. Bonney,
I am a senior flute player at Chi-Hi and was privileged enough to be able to perform Threnody this past Saturday. It was truly an amazing piece to play. I deeply miss Branden and G, but i know that your music would have brought tears to their eyes just as it did my own. I cannot thank you enough for putting your talent into a piece for us. I am honored to have been a part of it. Thank you
Mr. Bonney,
I would like to thank you for writing such a beautiful piece. I'm a sophormore horn player so I was able to listen to threnody from an audience standpoint. It was very moving, a tribute I believe G, and the others would have loved. You'll always be welcome in the Chippewa Falls community. Thank you .
I want to thank you so much for writing such a beautiful piece. I am a freshman flute player and it was wonderful to be sitting in the audiance listening to amazing piece. It was very moving that it brought tears to my eyes. I miss G and the other a lot and it was great to hear a wonderful tribute to them. Thank you again.
Dear Mr. Bonney~
It is very surreal to be writing to you now. It's been a while since the concert, though it feels like a lifetime ago, but I've only just looked at this site thanks to myspace.
My name is Jessica McIlquham. I am going to be a senior next year at Chi-Hi, and I was in the hospital for a month and a half because of the accident on October 16th. I normally wouldn't write like this, in such a frank and crisp way- usually I am making light of the subject or avoiding it altogether. But lately, I have really been trying to face everything that has happened to me and everyone so that I can get past it.
It's funny because I'm already crying and I look at the headline of the webpage and it says, "Compose yourself."
I was at the concert. I was playing. I was singing. I was crying. I wasn't coming to you to tell you how wonderful the song was. I'm sorry. I want to tell you now though. Hearing that song, a song that was purely for the souls lost, was so immensely moving that I cried with both eyes.
This means so much to me, because when I cry now, and I wipe my eyes with my hands, my left hand comes away dry. I sat in the stands, surrounded by my friends who were all there when I wasn't, and cried and wept and sobbed- both eyes! I had so much snot and tears and emotions that I felt as though I might never get up. And being held by those who I love so dearly, and crying with them made me feel as if I was there on that first night when it happened. And that healed me so much, so much. I can't find any combination of words to describe what I want to convey to you.
G was so important to me. I needed so badly to mourn for him and I couldn't because I was pulp in a hospital bed on so many drugs and machines that I couldn't have cried even if my face hadn't been pulp. I miss the others, Brandon especially, but none of them were an influence on my life the way G was. Playing a G chord, or typing the letter or anything is like someone is slapping me in the face. I missed his funeral, his wake, his candle service, and I can't remember the sound of his laugh anymore. But your song helped me remember.
Thank you so much, from the bottom of my broken heart.
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