Ode to the man who loved music. He loved everything about music; the notes, the feel, but most obvious, the sound. He lived and breathed music. His passion drove him to learn all different kinds of instruments: guitars, mandolins, banjoes, bass guitars, pianos, drums–you name it, he loved it! His obsession grew like bamboo as he fueled his desire for more music. Soon he couldn’t get away from it. Like an added part of his anatomy, he inserted head phones into his ears to let sweet melody swim through his veins. He saw music in everything. The wind vibrated to a tune, the rain provided a beat, the patter of feet issued a rhythm! His life was filled with excitement and happiness. He satisfied the music calling as he went to concert after concert. No band was good enough, no front row could gratify the bliss within his soul. Every weekend was spent at a concert and every minute at the computer was spent with ambient tunes. Some say his iPod was apart of him and his instruments were always being played. There was no denying how much he loved music. Music was air, music was food, music was everyday. Then one night he heard a pitch. It was a high-pitch–like the sound of a tuning fork, like the sound of a pin drop on repeat. It wouldn’t stop. He left his spot in the crowd at the concert and ran away from one of the bands he was hopping to hear that night. Stumbling to get out–the sound continued. It was annoying him now. He griped the wall and winced in pain. “are you okay?” said the guy at the MERCH table. Why was everything so muffled? It’s like a bomb went off! And what is with THAT RINGING! And with that, it stopped. But the music stopped too, and the girl talking to the guy at the MERCH table, and the screams of everyone around him. It all stopped. Suddenly, he was yelling, clapping, trying to un-pop his ears, anything to bring it back. He glanced at people blankly–unable to form any words. The confused looks of peoples mouths and hand motions were enough to bring tears to his eyes. What was happening? He stepped outside and noticed a significant difference: There was no tune of the wind, no beat of the rain, no rhythm of feet pattering. It was in this moment he remembered the last sound he ever heard…And what is with THAT RINGING!…funny…now wishing more than anything to hear it one more time.
A true tragedy on this day for him to loose the thing he cherishes the most, but only in reflection realizes its worth. Ode to the musician and lovers of music–protect that which you feel will last forever, for it will most likely wither when we least expect it to. The musician knew he would loose his hearing someday, what he didn’t know was that day was today.