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Dear Everyone,
Please read every word of this. It's so important to me, you can't even start to realize until the same kind of thing has happened to you.
I sit here now, and realize that not everyone here has heard the story behind my dear Mistah T. I know Rach has, but not everyone else.
I'll tell that before I get to the point.
Most of you know Mistah T, my band teacher. Y'know, the great young man with the babyface that, in Outkasts, let us all go play in the rain? Because he felt like it? Yeah, he's a great guy.
But he's only been my teacher for this year.
Last year, for marching band, I had another teacher, Mr. Eric Holden. He was wonderful, so in love with the music, a perfectionist. At the time, I was annoyed and exhausted, because he'd always make us do the moves or play the song over and over... now I feel bad about that. He was trying to make us do better. That's all.
It wasn't too long before my Freshman year of band camp, 2001, that he had a pair of twin sons, Max and Jack, to go along with his daughter, Eryn, who I don't think had quite reached three yet.
Thinking of those three, and their mom... I'm going to start crying again. But not before I finish my story.
Not halfway into my freshman year, Mr. Holden stopped coming to the morning practices for marching band. He was tired and always in pain. Our Winds director, Mr. Krill, whom I love so much, I love all my band teachers so much, but Mr. Krill led the practices.
Then Mr. Holden started to not come to school. I learned... in late December, 2001, I think, that he had bone cancer. But they told us he was going to get better. And for a while, he was. He went through chemo, and by the end of the season, he was coming to games again. Not conducting, of course, he was still too tired for that, but he came, and that was special.
My sophomore year at band camp, 2002 season, Mr. Holden came, and it was wonderful, it was great to see him there, so happy and full of life, joking around, getting to know the freshmen and making them feel better about this great family known as marching band. It was wonderful. And when we got home, he was doing great, coming to the practices, teaching us in school. Everyone was happy; Mr. Holden was back.
But, sometimes, things aren't always what they seem.
I think it was November 2002 that Mistah T started to teach us because Mr. Holden had taken a turn for the worse. He had to go through chemo again, and went on a leave of absence, giving us Mistah T for a teacher. We all prayed, hoped, wished that Mr. Holden would get better, and sometimes, he seemed like he was. I was sick for my last concert, but my Winter Concert, Mr. Holden conducted Greensleeves, and while at the time I was angry at him for not bothering to conduct the way Mistah T had taught us, I'm now glad that he at least had that chance to conduct the bands he so lovingly created, shaped, and helped grow into the fine young musicians and wonderful program you see today.
Mr. Holden was getting worse though. We saw less and less of him, and the news from him was getting less frequent, but it was always bad.
I came into band class this morning, and Mistah T told us that no, no matter what rumors we heard, Mr. Holden had not died. He had taken a turn for the worse, yes, they'd found another growth along his spine, he was in the ER, but he was not dead.
Yet.
I was joking around with my friend Tori, about fifteen-twenty minutes before the last bell was going to ring, when an announcement came over the speaker: "Band Students, please report to the band room immediately. Mr. Templin has an announcement for you all." I exchanged a glance with not only Tori, but my fellow band students Stephanie and Robert before packing my stuff and heading for the band room, which was across campus from my current classroom. I met up with my ex-boyfriend, now good friend, Bill and we walked over together, joking about our classes and trying to keep ourselves from shaking with premonition. Somehow, I think, all the band students just knew. We're connected that way: one big happy family, with all the band teachers as semi-daddies, and Mr. Holden as the big daddy. Uncle Holden, we all used to call him. It was his own joke. But anyway, I think we all knew, something had happened to Mr. Holden. And something had.
Big Willie, one of the most respected band members (hence the funny nickname), told us all to sit down and wait for Mistah T to compose himself. That's what struck us all, I think; that Mistah T had to compose himself. And that we had Walt (everyone's favorite teddy-bear/security guard) standing at the outside door while every single last counselor my school has was standing at the inside door. And that most of the fine arts teachers were standing at the door that led to the practice rooms.
Mistah T comes out from the office and sits down, wiping his glasses. He even laughed about it: "I'm gonna clean my glasses now, because that's what I do when I don't want to look you guys in the eye."
Then he told us.
Mr. Holden, Mr. Eric Holden, amazing band teacher, wonderful conductor, divine instructor, and 'uncle' to over one thousand students, had passed away this afternoon of April 8th, 2003.
I've just burst into tears again, please excuse me while I compose myself.
Thank you.
I'm sitting here now, hugging myself and trying to keep from bursting into tears at every single thing my sister or my mom does. And I just want to ask that you guys, whom I love so very very very much, all of you, send prayers, wishes, hopes, spells, whatever it is that your religion allows you to give... send them to Mr. Holden. He was a wonderful wonderful man, with three young children, and he wasn't very old himself; in his early thirties. He didn't deserve to die, he had so much to live for, but I'm glad he's no longer suffering. I'm sorry that he'll never be able to see Eryn, Max and Jack grow up, but I hope that whatever memories they have of their daddy are good ones. I hope Mrs. Holden understands that every single student at Desert Vista High School of Phoenix, AZ feels the pain she's feeling, just in a very different way.
I love my band, each and every member.
I love all of you. Believe me when I say that.
I leave you with a song my band sang after every performance, one of Mr. Holden's favorites; we sang it for him today after we learned what had happened.
Excuse me while I burst into tears while typing it.
I thank you all for your time.
~~~~~~~
When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark
At the end of the storm
Is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark
Walk on through the wind
Walk on through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on with hope in your hearts
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone
Alone...
~~~~~~~
~ Stacy Duncan
Lute
Thumbsucker Snitch
The Strange Pairing Whore
Snitch Goddess
Slash Goddess
Lover of the Siznitch
DVHS Piccaflute FOREVER
I Will Always Remember Eric Holden
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