Babies started walking. Talking. Attending preschool. Kindergarten.
Little ones have lived through grandparents day, Christmas concerts, MRIs, surgeries, and learning to drive.
Teens have lived through senior years and started college, first broken hearts and cross country moves, One has almost become old enough to drink that bottle of wine with you legally.
Five planting seasons. Five harvest seasons.
Two business openings. Two business moving to bigger spaces. One impending retirement.
One marriage dissolved. One marriage started.
Days and nights seamlessly connect over and over again until one day we wake up and it has been five years.
I won’t sugar coat it one bit. It’s been a struggle to stay connected for us all through these rough first five-year without you. Death does that. Death does a lot of stinky things between people that makes it down right difficult in this state of “nice.” Death in the long run however doesn’t win.
No where in a music score does it tell a listener how to react properly. When you read music as you play it’ll cue your brain to manipulate the instrument that you are playing into crescendos or fortissimo or some other type of expression, but it doesn’t give the listener any cues as to how the music will affect their heart. It’s up to you the musician to put passion and voice into the music to make it memorable for the listener.
He was the former band director of our little school in Iowa, and he passed away in a bike accident a few short days ago. Last night as I sat in the hot gym I sat with his friends and family as we listened to speeches, scriptures and songs given in honor of a man who devoted his life to the art of making sure the listener listened to the music being played.
His friend spoke of times they adventured. His oldest daughter spoke of his love for doing small things everyday to master anything. Love poured out of the lifelong friend who sang “Bourning Cry.” Then there was a band, 40 steller musicians that offered their time and talent to honor the legacy of a man who had touched them in some way.
I listened to the music played by this all star band made up of former students, colleagues, and lifelong friends and my heart captured a glimpse of deeper things that happen when one gives their time to play in a band. The diligence of practice that must occur. The friendships that form between people who play the same instument. The sheer grit it takes sometimes to get through learning a new song or instrument. And for this band specifically, it was the beauty of many parts making something amazing together to honor a man who knew God consistently, loved his family emmensly, and gave over 30 years of his life to the art of making music in the local school.
Mr Dahn, you’ll be missed by this community you called home. You’ll be missed by generations of band students you so patiently guided and lead over your years as band director, but most importantly your life will be missed by a whole host of people that you encouraged excellence from simply because your passion for great music was contagious.