A couple of weeks ago, Mark McKenzie and I continued an annual tradition of taking our saxophones to Wilshire’s Wednesday evening Pre-K choir class for a show-and-tell about music and instruments. It’s always fun but unpredictable because we don’t have a prepared script and we never know what the kids will say or do. We keep it loose and it always goes fine.
This year, after the show-and-tell that included four sizes of saxes, demonstrating the highest and lowest notes, letting the kids touch the keys, and explaining that the saxophone gets its funny name from Belgian musician and inventor Adolphe Sax, we played a few short duets. That included “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” “Itsy Bitsy Spider,” “Old MacDonald” and “When the Saints Go Marching In.” We’ve played these tunes before and they’re pretty simple, so I didn’t spend any time rehearsing. That was a big mistake because it had been a year and I missed some notes and rhythms. Afterward, I was disappointed with myself for my lack of preparation.
But then I thought about it later and about the reaction of the children — they sang along on some of the tunes — and I realized they didn’t notice or care about my flubs. They didn’t need perfection from us. They were intrigued, fascinated and even entertained. They learned something new about music and shiny brass instruments, and maybe they were stimulated enough to explore music when they get older, just as I did after seeing a man with a bassoon when I was their age.
The lesson here, for me anyway, is that God doesn’t need our perfection. God wants our effort; God desires our participation. At the same time, I don’t think God wants us to be lazy about it; God doesn’t want us just phoning it in, as the saying goes. I think God appreciates us preparing ourselves for whatever we’re doing. It creates a better outcome; if it’s music, it’s a more enjoyable experience for the audience. And for us, it’s good for our mental health; if we’ve put in the time to prepare, we don’t need to beat ourselves up later if we make mistakes or flub the music.
As it happened, the performance at Pre-K choir might have been the last time I get to play alongside Mark – with Wilshire Winds or for the kids – because if you didn’t know, he and his wife Geri have moved to Baltimore where she has a new job. He’ll still be handling communications for Wilshire from that location, but he won’t be playing the sax with us.
That was evident this past Monday night at Winds rehearsal when Mark was absent for the first time in years. I texted him from the choral hall during rehearsal and he had just arrived in Memphis, the first leg of his drive to his new home. Meanwhile, Jaime Campos, who sat next to Mark and played the second alto sax part for many years, is transitioning to the first alto part. Monday night, out of habit, he began playing the second part, and when he was reminded that he needs to play the first part now, he dug into the other folder to get it.
“The first alto folder is your folder now,” I told him, to which he smiled and shook his head and said, “No it’s not!” Jaime is a capable musician, and more than that, he has lots of enthusiasm and a big heart, and that pairs well with his talent. He doesn’t need to be Mark; being himself will be just what we need.
Meanwhile, Jaime and I and really anyone facing a challenging task or assignment would benefit from following Mark’s example of always learning, always working to be prepared. In his “I Am Wilshire” profile in last week’s “Tapestry,” Mark wrote about his history as a jazz musician: “I didn’t study music in college and didn’t start learning jazz improvisation until my late 30s. I still have lots to learn.” I know he’s pursued that learning in many ways: live on-line lessons from jazz sax instructors, playing with various local groups to develop his chops, and practicing, practicing, practicing.
There really is no substitute for practice. LeAnn and I attended a junior high band concert a few years ago where the director told the parents in the audience that their children will only get better at playing their instruments – and transition from making noise to making music – if they practice. That’s true for any of us at any age, no matter what we’re doing.