Amazing Grace...June 8th, 2006
To the readers, I apologize... At the rate I'm going, Marty Walsh will have his humor column up before I
get the hang of doing mine!
The recent Memorial Day and a conversation on the Forum recently reminded me of something that I thought I'd share. For those who don't know, I served in the US Coast Guard for about five years. During that time, I played everywhere I could; Chicago, Kobe Japan, Alaska, California - anywhere I could carry Elaine, my trusty alto, I played.
While I was stationed in Yorktown, Virginia they had the tenth memorial of a tragedy that had happened. A ship was lost with all hands, that included the entire class of Mavericks (enlisted men who were transitioning to officers). It was one of those freak accidents in bad weather and really no one's fault, but that brought no consolation to the families of the deceased. The leader of the base's band had a flair for the dramatic and a knack for arranging pieces according to the strengths of his ever-changing band. He was good friends with the base chaplain and the two had discussed this memorial at length. He had decided to do a custom arrangement of that old standby, Amazing Grace. He had written it for our band, with me starting solo, then adding the first trombone in for a duet, then the rest of the band.
The day of the memorial was gloomy and misty, but thankfully it had dried out during the memorial which was held outside. The families were all in attendance and it was a naturally somber crowd of perhaps two hundred people sitting in the metal folding chairs in front of the memorial statue and plaque. Things were progressing as expected; speeches were given and mostly ignored by the people in attendance, each lost in their own remembrances of their dearly departed. The Chaplain's turn came, and when it was obvious that he was winding down, the band leader had me stand and start to play Amazing Grace. I played the verse solo twice, not like we had rehearsed. The first was played lightly as the Chaplain finished his speech, then the second was louder. I was struck by the mood of the day and the audience and I must admit that I played an emotionally charged part. The trombone came in right on cue, providing a subtle and sad counter-point to the melody. Half the band didn't join in, and the band leader didn't even stand up. The trombonist and I basically played it as a duet all the way through. In the end, there wasn't a dry eye in the house. The band leader, the band, the audience and all the speakers were all joined in silent tears for a few minutes when we finished in a sort of impromptu moment of silence. Yes, both of us were in tears as well.
After the service was over, I was approached by many of the people that were there, thanking me for my performance. I received a letter of commendation from the base Commanding Officer, who was one of the speakers. Most of the people who approached me told me they now felt a sense of peace, as if they could finally let go of their grief. I was taken with the visceral power of communication that we had shared through the music. To this day, even as I write this, I get goose bumps remembering the highly charged emotions I'd seen and had that day. Music truly is a universal language and it touches all of us deep in our souls and hearts. It has the power to bring us up, take us down or set us free.
May the music in your life embrace you.
Jason "Cousi" Cousineau
The recent Memorial Day and a conversation on the Forum recently reminded me of something that I thought I'd share. For those who don't know, I served in the US Coast Guard for about five years. During that time, I played everywhere I could; Chicago, Kobe Japan, Alaska, California - anywhere I could carry Elaine, my trusty alto, I played.
While I was stationed in Yorktown, Virginia they had the tenth memorial of a tragedy that had happened. A ship was lost with all hands, that included the entire class of Mavericks (enlisted men who were transitioning to officers). It was one of those freak accidents in bad weather and really no one's fault, but that brought no consolation to the families of the deceased. The leader of the base's band had a flair for the dramatic and a knack for arranging pieces according to the strengths of his ever-changing band. He was good friends with the base chaplain and the two had discussed this memorial at length. He had decided to do a custom arrangement of that old standby, Amazing Grace. He had written it for our band, with me starting solo, then adding the first trombone in for a duet, then the rest of the band.
The day of the memorial was gloomy and misty, but thankfully it had dried out during the memorial which was held outside. The families were all in attendance and it was a naturally somber crowd of perhaps two hundred people sitting in the metal folding chairs in front of the memorial statue and plaque. Things were progressing as expected; speeches were given and mostly ignored by the people in attendance, each lost in their own remembrances of their dearly departed. The Chaplain's turn came, and when it was obvious that he was winding down, the band leader had me stand and start to play Amazing Grace. I played the verse solo twice, not like we had rehearsed. The first was played lightly as the Chaplain finished his speech, then the second was louder. I was struck by the mood of the day and the audience and I must admit that I played an emotionally charged part. The trombone came in right on cue, providing a subtle and sad counter-point to the melody. Half the band didn't join in, and the band leader didn't even stand up. The trombonist and I basically played it as a duet all the way through. In the end, there wasn't a dry eye in the house. The band leader, the band, the audience and all the speakers were all joined in silent tears for a few minutes when we finished in a sort of impromptu moment of silence. Yes, both of us were in tears as well.
After the service was over, I was approached by many of the people that were there, thanking me for my performance. I received a letter of commendation from the base Commanding Officer, who was one of the speakers. Most of the people who approached me told me they now felt a sense of peace, as if they could finally let go of their grief. I was taken with the visceral power of communication that we had shared through the music. To this day, even as I write this, I get goose bumps remembering the highly charged emotions I'd seen and had that day. Music truly is a universal language and it touches all of us deep in our souls and hearts. It has the power to bring us up, take us down or set us free.
May the music in your life embrace you.
Jason "Cousi" Cousineau
Jason Cousineau comes to The Fedora Chronicles from Massachusetts - Husband, Father, Coast Guard Veteran… And actually introduced The Fedora Chronicles webmaster to the world of Jazz with a short list of essential “Must Have” Jazz albums.
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