It was one year ago today – at about 7:30 in the morning – that my cell phone rang.  It was Sarah Gorke,  a former student/ colleague/ friend …  and these words are still burned into my memory:  “I have some really bad news about Nick…..”   It’s so strange how time itself can seem to stand still in such a moment,  sort of like the moment when you bump a vase and watch it fall slowly to the floor, but unable to catch it before it breaks into a million pieces.  This was one of those moments.  I immediately thought ‘Nick Huff,’  one of my current Carthage voice students.   In the next split instant,  I thought of ‘Nick Barootian,’ a former voice student.   Sarah knew both of them well,  so it made perfect sense that she would be the one who might know of such news.   And in that strange moment of suspended time,  I can remember my mind ricocheting between those two possibilities and wondering who she was talking about and what had happened to them.

And then Sarah completed her sentence:  “I have some really bad news about Nick ….. Sluss.”

I don’t think I will ever forget what it felt like to have the world upended in an instant.  Sarah went on to relate the awful news that Nic had been involved in a terrible car accident the night before in Milwaukee and gravely injured.  I tried to take it in,  but my mind simply couldn’t accept something so stunning.   There was something so grounded, so indestructible about Nic Sluss-Rodionov.  He was one of the last people I would have expected something like this to happen to.    But as Sarah continued to speak,  the reality of what she was sharing began to sink in. And although for a time there was guarded hope that Nic might be able to recover,  the severity of his injuries eventually became clear and his family made the difficult yet inevitable decision to  let him go.   I count myself tremendously privileged to have been allowed the chance to visit Nic in the hospital on the day he died – and even to sing something for him and for his family.   The song I chose to sing was the spiritual “Deep River,”  which is one of the pieces that Nic studied with me in voice lessons.   And by that evening,  Nic was gone.  He was only 33 years old.

Nic and I went back a long, long way.  I vividly remembered his audition at Carthage,  when he played both a french horn and a piano audition for us-  both exceptionally impressive.  It was only much later that we realized that he was also a talented singer –  and indeed singing was to become a very, very important part of his life both at Carthage and beyond. Being Nic’s voice teacher was a tremendous joy for me.  He was a singer with uncommon natural gifts wed to a fervent hunger to make the most of his gifts.   And beyond those gifts,  I think what was most remarkable about Nic was his open-heartedness …… his down-to-earth lack of artifice …..  and his deeply appreciative spirit.  Although Nic had a colossal musical talent,  he always seemed a whole lot more interested in other people and their successes than his own.  And Nic also seemed to have a special attentiveness to and sensitivity for any students who might be a bit on the fringes of the group.  One of my favorite stories about Nic came from a Carthage student named Liz Tindall (now Liz Gorr) who was a lonely and scared freshman when she first made Carthage Choir.  She said that the one person who went out of their way to make her feel like a part of the group was Nic. I smiled when I heard that- and was also not the least bit surprised to hear Nic described in those terms.  Nic also had a great sense of humor that occasionally bordered on the subversive.  I remember Nic being a bit dismayed and amused that music students would devote so much time and money to cranking out fancy posters for their recitals- so Nic’s recital poster featured a xerox of his driver’s license, plus a few crudely written words about time and place – and that was it.  It was Nic’s own unique way of cutting through the crap.  (I wish I had kept a copy of his poster.  I would have it hanging proudly in my office.)

I will always be very grateful that I got to see Nic twice in the weekend before his accident.  The first time was when I drove up to Milwaukee for a Saturday evening Masters Singers concert-  and Nic quietly slipped into the pew right behind me – and we enjoyed that splendid concert together.  It was so nice to hear the insightful things he had to say, and all of it was wrapped up in deep-seated appreciation for what was being shared.  Nic loved music of all kinds-  and also appreciated the efforts of gifted, dedicated musicians.  He knew the business from the inside out and knew what it took to bring beautiful music alive.   And after the concert,  when we went back for the reception, I was very impressed with how many people there knew Nic and were happy to see him.   It really underscored for me what an important part of the Milwaukee musical community Nic had become.  I experienced the very same thing the next day when Nic and I ran into each other at intermission of the Milwaukee Florentine Sunday matinee.   Again,  I was so impressed with his astute critique of the performance thus far- and once again it seemed like he knew half of the people that crowded room.

Less than a week later came that mind-numbing phone call from Sarah – those days of anxious waiting – and finally the day when the decision was made to say final goodbyes and then let him go. And in the wake of that maddening, needless tragedy, all of us who cared about Nic are still struggling to make sense of such a loss and struggling to know what lessons are to be learned.  One lesson is this:  that we have no way of knowing when our life might be interrupted in such brutal fashion.  None of us is immune to such a possibility.  So leave nothing important unsaid …. or undone.  Say it now.  Do it now.  Cherish the people in your life- and cherish all of the gifts that life has to offer.  Live deeply and vigorously- and chances are that you will leave a deep mark on others.

Nic certainly did.