I'm going to make this short and sweet, because I'm still in shock.

But those of you who went to school with me...who know me.

Our band director committed suicide Sunday.

I'll miss those Disneyworld trips with the band even more now that the man who tirelessly fundraised and honed our skills to get us there in the first place is gone.

This is the man who taught me to play three octaves on the trumpet...the man who eventually let me do the opening to 'Chameleon' because I could nail that E flat that was twenty miles above the normal range on the scale...

This was the man who let me sneak out of school without permission to go on runs to the local nearby deli and bring back lunch for he and I.


This was the man who helped me send my Bach stradavarius to be completely rebuilt. He didn't want me playing a cornet because he said it "didn't do me justice"...heh.

So next time you watch a football game, and you're thinking 'halftime stat rehash'...remember what it's like to feel those lights burning on your face as you stand at ease. Then, you hear TEN HUT!!!! and you snap to life...MARK TIME, MARK UP 1..2...1..2..3..4..




Mr. Reeves, we'll miss you.

:-(