Last Saturday my brother Eddy and I played in a concert with the Florida Keys Community Concert Band in Islamorada, Florida. The weather was picture perfect and cool. We brought our families along to enjoy the concert and the beautiful weather.
After the concert we sat in front of the empty stage and snacked and chatted. Among the concert-goers was a nice woman and her Schnauzer puppy. She said she enjoyed listening to jazz after she heard Eddy playing his sax. After the conversation we said our goodbyes and she walked to her car in the parking lot.
During the conversation, my granddaughter Violette was on the empty stage singing her entire repertoire of songs and demanding everyone’s attention while doing so. Eddy began accompanying Violette on the sax so I got my trumpet and joined in.
As twilight approached, my wife asked if we knew any songs we could play together. The last music we played together, besides the concert band stuff, were some bebop duets at Christmas. We only played a couple of them – and certainly not often enough to memorize them.
I did not have the bebop music with me so that option was out. Then I remembered way back to the mid 1970s when we were in marching band. There was one song we played so often we would remember it the rest of our lives. The Coral Park Fight Song.
I began playing and Eddy joined in. It didn’t sound very good at first but it was definitely recognizable. When it ended we laughed and noticed the lady and the little Schnauzer walking back toward us. She asked if that was a high school fight song and we said yes. Then she sheepishly asked if it was the Coral Park fight song.
We were surprised anyone recognized it. She told us she graduated from Coral Park in 1969. Her father, Frank Downing, was Coral Park’s first football coach when it opened in 1963. She told us her name was Denise Downing and she had been a cheerleader at Coral Park so of course we played the fight song again and this time she danced along. Then we played the Alma Mater and she sang along.
We had a wonderful conversation and discovered we knew some people mutually. Finally, as the sun set, we exchanged contact information, said our goodbyes again and hugged.
A couple of days later, as I wrote this post, I contacted Denise to be sure she approved of it. She generously sent the following pictures of her father and a couple of the awards she received in 1969.
Back in high school we lived in the moment, more concerned about the next test or a girl’s attention than any thought about how life would be in 40 years. We went through the day doing what needed doing yet unconsciously absorbing all the little cues that years later would trigger wonderful memories.
Until that Saturday we had never met Denise but by the time the sun slipped below the horizon we had a new friend.
Go Rams!
Esse Quam Videri
Great post!