Because tomorrow will mark my sixteenth birthday, I feel like expressing how my life has been surrounded by music. I hope that my story will inspire others to get involved in music.
At an early age, my mother could already tell that I was a good musician. When I began singing at three or so, I was always on pitch. Whereas some kids just talk with pitch, I actually sang. At weddings I'd ask the musicians, such as the harpist or the string quarter, to play Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.
In elementary school, I'd try to teach the music class, to my teachers annoyance. Finally she called my mom up saying, "Carol, your son drives me crazy, but you need to get him into a choir."
It was then I joined the Minnesota Boychoir, this being 2005. I was a member of Junior Chorus. It was also around this time that I started taking piano lessons. At first, I hated them. But, when I figured out that I could learn songs I knew, such as Mary had a Little Lamb, I started enjoying them. As my interest in music began to grow, so did my knowledge. My choir and piano lessons helped me to learn music theory way before most kids begin to get the basics.
In 2007, I was accepted into Cantablie and was invited to go on tour with the Minnesota Boychoir (from here on MNBC) to Australia. At the tender age of 11, I had begun my international singing adventures. Also around this time, I began learning the trumpet. Once again, my knowledge of other forms of music contributed to my trumpet playing.
In 2009, I was diagnosed with type I diabetes. Although my life had been turned upside down on Wednesday, May 27, I was able to celebrate my birthday at home on the 29th of May. A few weeks later, my choir went on tour to Alaska as the entertainment onboard a cruise ship. I, along with many members of my family, went along with this trip.
At the same time, I had gotten braces. Due to the pain from playing the trumpet with them, I moved to French horn and then baritone.
In eighth grade, I was cast as the boy soloist in Leonard Bernstein's Mass and was broadcast over Minnesota Public Radio. I was also cast in a workshop for a newly written musical at the Guthrie theatre in Minneapolis. The same year, my grandfather died. I asked my grandma if I could sing for the funeral. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I could see, by the faces in the congregation, that it meant more than I could imagine. That sumner my choir went to Portland, Oregon for a youth choir festival. This would be the first time I had ever been away from my family for an extended period of time.
Over the rest of the summer, I taught myself flute, saxophone, and clarinet.
In mid-July, my 17 year old cousin Karl drowned. I was asked by his mother to sing at his funeral. I can say, with the utmost certainty, that singing for his funeral, Be Still My Soul, was the single most difficult thing I've ever done.
In 2010, I entered 9th grade. I told my band director I'd play anything he wanted me to. He asked me to play tuba. Throughout this year, I began to compose and try new instruments: organ, bassoon, guitar, ukulele, and oboe.
In the summer of 2011, my choir was invited to sing at the Vatican for high Mass on the feast day of St. Paul and St. Peter. It just so happens that I live near St. Paul and that on the day we sang, we went to both St. Paul's Church and St. Peter's Basilica. Two months later, I was diagnosed with West Nile which put me in the hospital for eighteen days and out for the count for nearly 5 months.
In 10th grade, after numerous budget cuts, I was accepted into my high school's Chorale and Wind Ensemble. I played bassoon in band and sang 1st tenor in choir. Due to a boy dropping Encore, my school's a cappella group, I was asked to join. I arranged several pieces for Encore, and sang a solo.
And here I am. Three years and one day after my diagnosis. Fifteen years, 364 days, 17 hours and 19 minutes later. I look back and I see the obstacles I've faced. I look back and I see the joys I've experienced.
I ask you, reader. What is your dream? How hard are you willing to fight for it?
My dream is music. Although I'm teased, brushed off, and put aside, I know that there is one thing no one can ever take away from me: my dreams. Throughout sickness, loss, suffering and disappointment, I've never stopped trying. I've never said "You know, this might not work out for me. I should quit." I've never said no to my dreams and I look how far I've come.
I found a journal entry from kindergarten and it said this: "When I get older, I'm going to be successful."
I love that. It wasn't a dream then, it was a statement of fact.
Now that I see myself now. In all my flaws, insecurities, and faults, I can say, despite the things I lack, I'm successful.
Don't ever stop dreaming.
It gets better.
Trust me.
