UNPLUGGED

I'm proud to say I was a present-in-the-world, active participant in the American Idol phenomenon when it began well over twenty years ago. That’s right. I was sitting in front of my big-tubed, old-school television watching Kelly Clarkson make her debut on the classic talent show.

  

I watched Kelly and fellow contestant Justin Guarini belt out different songs in front of judges Paula, Randy, and Simon. America had to vote. We had to dial the number of our favorite singer that week on a landline. Text messages for 10 cents did not arrive until the second season. What a time to be alive!

Felissa Battle, my good friend and fellow English teacher at Fike High School, would text back and forth with me on our Blackberries about the show. In the fourth season, I was all for Bo Bice beating Carrie Underwood. It wasn't until Felissa told me to listen to Carrie’s first single, “Jesus, Take the Wheel,” that I realized how wrong I had been.

My interest began to wane at the end of the fifth season, the one in which Chris Daughtry exited the show in fourth place. Taylor Hicks won that season, and, quite frankly, I was never the same.  We all felt America got it wrong.

I have been a Daughtry fan since then. I will admit that my tastes in music have changed, and I stopped listening to his music regularly. That’s about growing up, right? Still, I have my own “All Daughtry” playlist on Amazon Music, which I regularly update with his new songs I like.

Musicians that we enjoyed in the past are like old friends who stop by for a visit to talk about old times. They aren’t really there with us, but they bring back memories we shared a long time ago. When we listen to the old music, we go back to who we were.

So, sitting three rows from the Capital Music Hall stage, staring at a microphone stand adorned with pink roses that wound their way to the bottom where a huge skull rested on the floor looking at the audience, I had to take a picture to text to Felissa.

FELISSA: Hey there! Where are you? Who’s going on stage?

STOKED ME: Wheeling. Chris Daughtry. 20 years unplugged.

FELISSA: Oh. That should be so good!!!

When I heard Daughtry was coming to Wheeling, excitement sent me to the website to buy a ticket, the best one I could find. This concert was going to be perfect. He brought a more intimate setting with all-acoustic instruments and a dark, candlelit stage. He came to reminisce with all of us about his twenty-year journey in music.

I did not care that I was a 60-something concertgoer. I dropped any pretense of being out of place and bought a Daughtry: 20 Years Unplugged concert shirt. I settled into my seat with a Pepsi and stale popcorn, awaiting a reunion with an old friend - myself.

Throughout the concert, my visiting friend Chris told me about how life had filled him with incredible joy and tremendous sadness, the kind of stuff that happens to many of us. He shared how the stories connected so much to the songs he had written and performed over the years. Chris did not disappoint.

Beyond enjoying the songs, I found that his wholehearted transparency about his life gave me the freedom to reflect on the moments that connected me to his songs over the years. Ironically, the show was not just a twenty-year retrospective for him but one for me as well. Sure, I felt the connection found in my seat’s proximity to the stage. But the connection went beyond that.

Chris’ music took me back to times of hope, loneliness, and a deep longing for home. The story behind one song was particularly poignant. The song is “September.” In his story, he talked about how much this song captured the feelings and emotions of leaving his home in North Carolina to take his music career to the next level.

“Of all the things I still remember
Summer's never looked the same
The years go by and time just seems to fly
But the memories remain.

In the middle of September, we'd still play out in the rain
Nothing to lose, but everything to gain
Reflecting now on how things could've been
It was worth it in the end.”

As I grow older, I think about how time pulled me out of the carefree nature of youth where life seemed simpler. It pushed me to change, to make adult decisions, to move forward into adulthood, whether I wanted to or not. That is life, and to be honest, sometimes life feels fantastic, while other times, it does not feel too good. 

Chris reminded me in this song that, despite all the changes I have experienced in my life, there are things time can never take away. Those are the memories and the feelings of freedom and promise that life held in my youth. Those are also the memories of people and places I have met and been to throughout my life. Those memories will always be there as a constant friend and companion that time can never take away. 

I am glad I can always look back. I revisit them every time I hear a song like “September.” Thanks for the visit, Chris Daughtry.

*” September.” Leave This Town. Daughtry

HE SANG

 

You have seen it. 

We all find those videos on YouTube or social media that stick with us, ones that we share with close friends or repost on Facebook. Last week, I found one that remains with me. 

A man is playing the National Anthem on his trumpet before a baseball game. Everything is going well until something happens: the trumpet no longer works. The man presses down on the valves, but one is apparently stuck. Time freezes right in the middle of the National Anthem on a fall evening at an Arizona Diamondbacks game.

The man pauses, looks at the trumpet, then steps to the microphone stand and removes the microphone. He holds the trumpet to his side and begins to sing the rest of the National Anthem as if this change had been his intent from the first note he played.

The camera crew and photographers move around him as he spins toward the crowd. He sings, swinging his broken trumpet to the patriotic rhythm of the song. As he finishes, the crowd erupts in well-deserved applause; he casually places the trumpet on the ground and triumphantly walks away.

Doctor Jesse McGuire, the 68-year-old former lead trumpeter for the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra, a man who has performed before three presidents and played the National Anthem 25 years ago at the 2001 World Series, has more than likely faced many different obstacles in his life. I imagine his instincts had him prepared for this moment, one that teaches us many valuable lessons.

Despite all our careful preparations, there will be moments when life does not unfold as we wish it would. We may be on a stage surrounded by a crowd; we could be among colleagues at work; or we could be alone at home. Regardless of the time and place, we are left with ourselves and the choices we must make.

McGuire had options, right? Once he saw the valve was beyond repair, he could have simply stopped, held his trumpet out to the crowd, shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and waved to the crowd. Honestly, that would have worked. The televisions around the stadium and at home televised the entire debacle. People knew what happened. Could anyone truly fault him for that?

McGuire could have put his head down and walked off the field. Leave the trumpet on the ground and walk away. The cameras would catch it all, and he could have done so graciously. He could have accepted this defeat by simply removing himself from it. 

Lord, some people would probably have been understanding if McGuire cursed and swore at the trumpet. “You damn piece of crap!” What if he grabbed a bat, tossed the trumpet in the air, and gave it a good whack into the infield? That is extreme, but tell me it doesn’t sound like a choice he could have made.

Does anyone remember when Roseanne Barr attempted to sing the National Anthem at a Padres game over three decades ago? I never thought she should have been invited to sing; she is a comedian who is clearly not known for her singing ability. But, hey, America is the land of opportunity.

She started singing off-key and later could not sync her singing to the taped-recorded music blaring throughout the stadium. Her crude singing became a torturous shriek. People booed the hell out of her, and do you remember what she did at the end? She grabbed her crotch and spit on the ground. 

What would you have done if you were Dr. McGuire? 

I know that I have had times in my life when life fell apart unexpectedly. Some of them give me the cold chills every once in a while. Those bad moments have stuck with me. I can recall times when I was totally at fault for what transpired, but I remember those when I was the victim of life’s misalignment of stars. That doesn't change the fact that I had choices.

McGuire’s choice? He sang.

The cameras and photographers were the people we know are there watching us when things go wrong. Our own audiences will hover, swirling around us the way the photographers did with McGuire. Sure, people may want to see us fail; others may empathize because they have been in an impossible situation. Many are just curious to see how we will react. 

Maybe that’s why this video is so popular. We all have been there before, just not on this grand scale, in a nationally televised baseball game. This moment reminds us that when life goes off course and hits a guardrail, we can remind ourselves that this was always a possibility and then find our way to a better ending. 

Picture Credits

Arizona Sports

Palmetto Media Company