the drummer

My favorite uncle Jimbo was our music teacher when I began elementary school. Imagine how neat that was for me as a first grader! He would swoop through the door singing "Good Morning Mrs. Green's Room" like he was the happiest man on earth. And he was. The joy that came to me from him of seeing music make life easier to deal with is a gift that I will always cherish. He did a lot of woodworking and made Christmas presents for us over the years.

Later on he was the director of jr and sr high band and I got to go along for the ride on that one too, even though I never could learn to blow into anything and make sound. That's where my piano training from he and Aunt Granny kicked in and I found my home with the chimes. Gigs were few and far between so mostly I just hung out with the band kids and enjoyed the ride. Cousin Debbie played the flute and her younger sister Millette was a majorette. During off times from band and choral stuff, he and Granny bought old houses and remodeled them. Those poor folks moved no less than 6 times over the time the girls were growing up. The man was a master of many things, and loved every minute of it.

At the age of 50 he was diagnosed with cancer of the prostate with bone mets. For four long years he traveled to get radiation treatments and continued to direct yet another band, which was to be his last. Obion County LOOOOOOOOVED him because I don't think they'd ever had someone with that fun sort of spirit to lead the way. When the drugs suddenly stopped working and he died four years later, their spirits were broken. Almost.

They were present in full uniform, by section, in the overflowing church come funeral day. I remember walking down that familiar carpet in the sanctuary thinking to myself "This can't be real." I almost forgot to hold BG's hand and she was only four at the time. There were people everywhere. And it was on that day that I realized how many lives had been touched by his spirit and ambition. Thirty years worth of students and parents turned out to pay their respects to Mr. G, as he was fondly known. I did a little pro-bono for the family and kept a check on his blood counts which dropped steadily during the last six months. I watched him turn into a weary traveler to the hospital from home to get blood and platelets. During the last hours he was "making platlets" with his hands.


When Deb and Ronnie stopped by after I got home from work, the conversation turned to the band once again. I was describing a particularly obnoxious old friend who thinks that the whole freakin' world twirls around him and she quickly said " the drummer." Uh, huh? "Daddy always told me that guys who act like that are always drummers." We started going through the list and by golly she/he was right. They're like crackheads without the smoke, which is pretty high maintenance for a woman to deal with. Especially a laid back one.

Every year there is a band contest held in his honor, right on the field where he directed for so many years. His family presents the James M. Godsey trophy to the winning marching band, as judged by the ones who know. Tonight there will be not only wife, children and grandchildren, but a couple of great grands too. I know with all of my heart that he will smile and sing over that.

This one's for you Jimbo. I'm keeping the faith ^j^