Today was already a most unusual and exciting day, thanks to the visit this afternoon and evening by Laura Kaeppler, a.k.a Miss America! But then it became still more exciting thanks to an entirely unexpected visit from a delightful music alum from Carthage named Melanie Taylor- although back in her Carthage days, she was Melanie Mills. She came to Carthage in the late 1990’s, was part of the Carthage Choir in 2000 when I took them to Europe, and was also a most valued member of the Chamber Singers. She really made her presence known around here from day one- with her great talent both as a singer and pianist, her effervescent personality, her exceptionally kind heart, and that irresistible southern accent of hers. Any day that Melanie crossed your path was a better day. And after graduating, she taught French for Kenosha Unified, which meant that we got to enjoy her company a while longer before she and her husband Steve relocated to Nashville, Tennessee.
I knew that the Taylors were going to be in the area last night because of a Facebook note from Melanie, saying that they were planning on passing through Racine on their way back to Tennessee from a trip up north. Unfortunately the visit didn’t jive with our schedule with meetings, rehearsals, church, etc. – so we were resolved to be two sad ships passing the night, just missing each other, this time around.
So anyway, this morning at about 11:00 I was down in my office, desperately searching for my copy of Arditi’s “Il Bacio,” the song on which I would be accompanying Miss America on tonight’s concert. It occurred to me only last yesterday evening that I had just assumed that Laura would have music with her, but that if she didn’t have it- we would be in big trouble! So I sent out an S.O.S. email to Corinne and Amy to see if either of them had music I could borrow. And until I heard back from them, I was going to turn my office upside down searching for the ratty old copy of this old chestnut that I was pretty sure was there someplace. So I was crouched back in the far corner of my studio, completely hidden by the grand piano, frantically searching through the mountain of sheet music lying there in no order whatsoever. And it was in the middle of that search that I heard a melodious (and somewhat familiar) voice call out from the doorway of my office “Hi! It’s the Taylors!” For a split second I was afraid that it was someone from the Miss America organization stopping by to talk about the evening’s festivities, and my blood froze at the thought of them seeing the horrific state of my office. “Just a minute!” I replied as I tried to haul my 52-year-old butt up off of the floor without tipping over the shelves and causing even more of a mess (and probably breaking my neck in the process!) And it’s only when I had pulled myself up high enough to peer out over the piano that I realized that it was Melanie and Steve Taylor and their wonderful young daughter. Talk about the sweetest sort of surprise one could wish for!
In the few free moments I’ve had since that visit, I’ve been thinking about what those kind of encounters really mean to the people involved beyond the ordinary shoot the breeze/ catch up on each other/ swap reminiscences stuff. For alumni like Melanie or Steve, it means coming back to an important place from your past and reconnecting . . . and, one hopes, discovering that you are still remembered there, as Melanie is remembered by those of us in the music department who have taught there awhile. I know that feeling well from going back to my alma mater, Luther College, and charting the dwindling number of music faculty who were there when I was there. And even with those few professors who are still there, it’s easy to feel like the subsequent generations of students who have come through the place have somehow displaced those of us who came before in the affections of our teachers. . . especially because Luther’s music department has grown by spectacular leaps and bounds since I graduated. Surely we cannot possibly shine quite so brightly in our teachers‘ memory when so many new bright lights are shining in the same sky. (Ah, such poetry!) We go back, nonetheless, in the hopes that we are remembered and that what we did there and gave to the school in our time there is still appreciated. I know that has to be part of what draws alumni like Melanie back.
But it works in the other direction as well. For us who are being visited, the faculty and staff, it really means the same thing . . . reconnecting and, one hopes, finding out that you are remembered by the students who are off living new adventures and writing new chapters in their lives. I think it’s safe to say that the most students, once they graduate at each stage, seem to shut each door behind them rather emphatically and enthusiastically and are on to the next thing… and we as teachers are left to wonder if we have had any lasting impact in many of our students’ lives. Actually, the answer to that question is almost always YES. We know we have. But are we remembered? Appreciated? That’s a different matter. And although it would be nice if we didn’t need that kind of affirmation, the fact is that most of us long to be remembered. And when someone like a Melanie comes along who appreciates her teachers enough to make a special trip to Carthage makes her way down to the bottom floor of Johnson Arts Center just to say hi … well, that is just about the sweetest gift a teacher can possibly be given. And even on a day as special as this one is, with a visit from Miss America itself, this unexpected reunion was just as special.
pictured above: This is Melanie and Steve’s lovely daughter Anne Claire. I tried to give her a little stuffed elephant as a gift, but it scared her and she politely gave it back to me! But the panda bear was more to her liking and it is on its to Nashville with her.