Suppose…Posted by Angelo Melendez on June 28th, 2008
On my way to San Diego for a work related conference, I started reading “Blue Like Jazz” by Donald Miller, non-religious thoughts on spiritual Christianity. Right out of the gate I was captivated by a statement about jazz being a product of the first generation of post slavery Negroes. I studied Jazz in college, and though I played the genre for many years, never became an accomplished jazz musician. For all my time within these circles I’d never heard this fact about the purveyors of the only true American art form.
So I started thinking about how this mindset has impacted my life. That is, where has conflict played itself out in ways I could not have expected and enabled me to either prosper or go in a direction that compelled me to explore creative or spiritual channels I otherwise might not have considered. No need to for excruciating detail, but there was a season I managed to invite trouble in various shapes and forms into my life, and with fairly regular consistency. I managed to lose my driving privileges, and had to work within reasonable distance from my apartment. So while working as a waiter at a vegetarian restaurant located about a 10 minute bicycle ride away, I overheard a fellow waiter’s mother, a local public service celebrity, having a conversation about an opportunity that led to a junior college music scholarship, which I can honestly say I likely wasn’t qualified for. But I worked my tail off and actually got through my first level of formal music education, including my first taste of various flavors of jazz.
A little more than a year after getting married to my precious wife, Karen, things in the local music scene were getting rocky. My wife sees an add in a newspaper for military musicians, specifically the Navy. I call the number and talk to someone who invites me to audition. So the day of the audition, I call and ask for the person I’d originally spoken with and they were not expecting me. Seems most folks that get these type interviews are brought in by recruiters or some other “reputable” source. I’m pretty sure the smirks were real as I passed through a rehearsal room to “jam” with a rhythm section. I was a pretty scraggly, long haired presentation, not military looking whatsoever… they accepted me just the same.
Just ten months later, having gone through boot camp and six months of military music training, I checked into my first Navy band in Newport, RI. A year later, in the midst yet another tempest created by my own selfishness and inability to recognize and cling to grace, our first son was born. By God’s mercy my wife endured this season of turmoil and we headed back to FL a couple of years later. It was the end of my enlistment and I somehow had come to the conclusion the Navy wasn’t my career path, though I’d been offered the bass instructor gig at the school of music where I learned how to be a military musician. End Part A of my second level of formal music education.
Suppose my wife had left me, suppose I decided to re-up and go to another band, or take the bass instructor position? Well, I didn’t, which led to a series life changing events over the next couple of years. I heard some intriguing music that totally drew me in, on a contemporary Christian station. I got a job that was supposed to be for a woman at a communications shop where three guys evangelized me. Suppose I’d changed the station and never went back to it, or wasn’t forced to take a administrative assistant job I really needed, suppose I didn’t respond to the message of the Gospel?
As it were, I ended up in a great blues band by night and working as a graphics, data, network guy for a day job. I was struggling in many ways just to make ends meet for our family now of two boys, as well as the notion of being a new Christian, which I really had little grasp on, and ended up back in the Navy Music Program for another couple of years — all this being Part B of my second level of music education.
After leaving the Navy, and the routine of working a day job and playing whatever gigs I could get, I chose to play music only in church, leading to yet another set of circumstances that otherwise would not have happened. At a Saturday morning rehearsal, one of the worship vocalists ask for a few minutes to share a lyric for the sake of having someone put it music. A bit to my surprise, no one jumped in… I’d done this once before in college, so I took the challenge. I guess I’d always been a sort of a songwriter, but this one event helped me realize I could get back to music outside the context of such structured musical vehicles like the Navy or church. Suddenly the chips began to fall such that I met with a friend from a previous job who is an indie artist that invites me to a meeting held by a local chapter of Nashville based songwriting association… suppose I’d not listened to the voice of encouragement at that Saturday morning rehearsal.
For the last five or so years I’ve been honing a new set of musical skills, while adding the fundamentals of being a writer. But having a full-time day job makes being a serious writer difficult. I do mentally draining work all day long, and though I try to spend time on a song or playing music in some form or fashion just about every day, it’s easy to get discouraged about chasing a dream at this stage in my life.
As long as there’s breath, there will be conflict and resolution — risk and reward — faith and hope. Challenges can bring pain, but without them there’s no refinement of my being. I want to grow as a person, father, husband, writer, and musician… by past grace I’ve made it this far, by future grace I will run this race to the end. I’m pretty sure if I had never found the blog that led me to “Blue Like Jazz” I’d still have these perspectives, I suppose just not in the same light.