Posts Tagged ‘Music’

I Remember Stephen

June 2nd, 2010

In the 1970’s, my career was wrapped completely around teaching, not just teaching, but teaching and playing music.  It was during that decade that my trumpet playing reached its peak, and between the numerous big bands in the area, I could play at least two weekend and one weekday nights every week.  The music was good, the musicians were friends, and the audiences were appreciative.

Johnstown Pennsylvania - A History - Part 2 - Randy WhittleThe Lemon Drop, Casa Romani, Mynderbinders, Bimbo’s, the Holiday Inn, the Ramada Inn, and a dozen other clubs with mostly ethnic or fraternal names were the sites of many a part-time playing job.  Be it the Johnstown Jazz Workshop, the Barnum and Bailey Circus, the Ice Capades, or Disney on Ice, my playing salary for the year often rivaled my teaching salary; neither of which came to more than $500 a month.

Along with those playing “gigs” there was one other primary, part -time employment opportunity and that was teaching private trumpet lessons.  It was my choice to teach at the Johnstown College of Music which was owned by Peg and Bob Hornick.  My schedule there was always packed full from 5:30 PM until 9:00 PM Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturday mornings.  There were kids of all ages from all school districts, and in the 1970’s those kids helped me pay the mortgage.  Even though I was usually pretty tired by 9:00 PM and often dreamed of learning to sleep with my eyes open, I never did.

One of my smallest students was Steve.  He was a little toe-headed, 7th grader from Forest Hills when he came to me, and he loved music.  He loved the fact that he was learning to play the trumpet from a professional and each week he got a little better.  Steve understood what it meant to work for something that he loved, and he didn’t mind getting an occasional tongue lashing if he hadn’t focused enough on his practicing that week.

Well, one night in 1976, I rushed through dinner, grabbed my jacket, and started for the door when my son, then three years old, stopped me and said, “Daddy, where are you going?”  I explained that I had to go to work.  He very slowly replied, “Daddy, you just came home from work.”  I signed and said, “I know, buddy, but I have to make some extra money.”  He looked at me quizzically and said, “What for, Daddy?”   To which I countered, “To buy you shoes.”  At that point he looked up at me and said in a very stern voice, “Daddy, I have shoes; please don’t leave me.”

It broke my heart to leave that night, but I did because I knew that I had an obligation, and when my first student walked in the door, I took a deep breath and thought to myself, “Steve, I’m here for you tonight, “ but those words were never spoken.
Ironically, there was an obituary in the newspaper last week, and it was an obituary for a 47 year old man who also left behind a son.  The age and the picture drew me further into the printed word where I read a name that seemed strangely familiar to me, Stephen Yanzetich.  It was Steve, my Steve, little 7th grade, toe-headed Steve who shared me that night.

Unbelievably, after 34 or so years, in his parting recognition, the author acknowledged that I had taught Steve trumpet, and as I sat back and read my own name in that obituary, I realized, once again, that it had been worth it, that 34 years later my time with Steve had been important to both of us.  That simple acknowledgement said to me, “Thank you, Mr. Jacobs, for caring enough about me to teach me all of those nights.”  To which I can candidly reply,”Thank you, Steve, for being such a good kid, and may God bless you.”

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Another Day, Another “A”

November 12th, 2009

Straight-A Report Card One of my many college roommates, Mark, graduated with a perfect, straight-A GPA.  In those days the grade point average indicating perfection was a 4.0.  He worked harder than anyone I had ever known, and hardly took even a few minute break from studying.  For all intents and purposes, he had virtually NO social life, and, except for the occasional pinochle game and a coke-and-pizza break between study sessions, Mark was 100 percent committed to perfection in his grades.  As he became more and more sure of himself over the years, he would walk into our apartment and yell out, “Another day, another A!” and mean just that.

One of the greatest challenges of my life has been finding those measuring sticks that quantify our accomplishments.  In fact, the quest to solve just that ongoing problem has caused me plenty of sleepless nights.  I know, for example, that the infrastructure established for our research institute was so singularly unique, so perfect, so incredible that it should  become an international model.  In fact, when the National Cancer Institute evaluated just one aspect of the  institute, they indicated that the tissue repository was “The Only Platinum Quality Tissue Repository in the United States.”

As my time away from the hospital and research institute quickly approaches twelve months, my passion for the accomplishments that we experienced there has become even more clear to me, but where is Judge Simon when you need him?  How do you grade them?  Worse yet, how does one convince his former peers that the design that grew out of the ideas that became the philosophy of our hospital should be treasured as a new way to achieve perfection on multiple levels? …Another Day.  Another A.

fierce_hospital_innovators

Having an infection rate that never went above 1 percent; an extremely low length of stay (3.2 days); low readmission rates, low restraint rates, unbelievably low litigation rates that almost didn’t register on the charts at all.

If your CFO is reading this, simply add the following to each one of those accomplishments . . . $$$.  How does a small hospital in Western PA with one major health care plan produce a bottom line in excess of $2M?  More importantly, why wouldn’t every hospital administrator want to adopt these approaches?

So what’s the “secret sauce?” We did this by working endlessly to create a truly healing environment, not to be confused with simply doing our jobs well . . . that was a given. We all had to do our jobs well, AND create an environment that fostered a healing atmosphere.

People actually got a chance to begin the healing process.  By eliminating overhead paging, permitting loved ones to stay over with 24 hour visiting, as well as pet, aroma, music, and humor  therapies, integrative medicine, kindness, a commitment to nurturing, patient centered care and a total commitment to the creation of an optimal healing environment, we began to see outcomes that were previously thought to be literally unthinkable.

Another day.  Another A.

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How Do You Keep the Music Playing?

February 9th, 2009

When civilizations are evaluated, there are numerous indicators that are used to demonstrate their relevance, their contributions to the world, and their donations to the future. As a young musician, one of my college professors predicted that our culture would begin to decline as a military, economic, and artistic world power. He pointed toward what he described as primary indicators of this decay, and he saw the decline of music in our schools as one of those indicators.

Overall, this professor was more than concerned about the role of public education in the future of our country and once described our form of public education as an experiment that would eventually prove to be ineffective. He saw the effort as a misguided attempt to squeeze all different shapes, sizes, and types of personalities, intellects, and skills into a single classroom, which he called a “melting pot of mediocrity.”

That professor also used to teach us about the writings of Marshall McLuhan from the University of Toronto who indicated that television would change the manner in which we lived our lives. His book The Medium is the Message made us all begin to look at the influence of television on society.

McLuhan described the fact that in visual space we used to think of things as continuous and connected. In either the auditory senses or the sense of touch, there are only resonances. There is no real continuity in our other senses. The fact that we have become the visual wo/man, through television, and that visual orientation has produced a collage that is neither continuous nor connected, has resulted in the reality that even our visual perceptions have lost their continuity.

It is well-known that music nurtures both the right and left sides of the brain, and that those who study music have intellectual opportunities that literally may not exist for those who don’t. The challenge is not just one of music as entertainment, but music as part of our intellectual training. So the question is, as in the James Ingram song lyric, “How do we keep the music playing?”

Young music teacher Nick Jacobs meets musical hero Maynard Ferguson What does this all mean? In 1972, my professor indicated that we were leaning toward a different type of society that would learn, participate, and act in a different way. One of his greatest fears though was that, due to this lack of continuous connection, those who would take charge of our educational systems would not recognize the importance of music as part of education and that music would begin to be downgraded, minimized, and even dropped from public education. Thus reading, writing, arithmetic, and the arts became reading, writing, and test scores.

If we look at the dramatic decline in participation in music education over the past 30 years, he was not far from wrong. The answer to the question of how this has impacted us as a society may not be totally clear for a few decades, but as we look across the overall educational landscape and see these chasms of deprivation from exposure to the arts that already exist, it seems relatively obvious that we have and will pay the price for ignoring those subjective, intellectually stimulating programs that spawn creativity and lead to new and better ways to form our futures.

Remember, from science fiction comes science, from dreams come creations, and from fertile minds come our professional careers. The high-quality drama teacher, vocal instructor, or orchestra director who helped many of us find our way to where we are today is many times not employed anymore, and last week we saw the arts cut once again from the stimulus package. In 1987, I read that more physicians had studied music as a discipline than any other single concentration in both high school and undergraduate work. Will tomorrow’s physicians be nurtured by music, and if not, at what cost to society?

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