Don’t Die With the Music Still in you… Those are good words. I don’t remember who original spoke them, or where I first heard it, but it’s something that has stuck with me throughout my life.
The meaning of those words became all too apparent in November of 2018 when I was diagnosed with throat cancer. More about that later.
It’s been roughly fifty-three years since I last played in a band. It was the high school band, and I was a percussionist. I was an arrogant teenager, and didn’t take well to being told what to do. So when the Music Director tried to invoke his rule regarding learning music theory, I resisted. After all, I’m a drummer. My job is to simply keep the beat, and provide some nice percussion to go along with all those saps who had to learn how to read notes from a sheet of paper. I had a good sense of rhythm and would have made a good drummer, but my arrogance stood in my way. Mr. Burton persisted, insisting that percussionist are not excused from learning theory. I resisted right back, but lost the battle. My last day in the band was the day I tossed my music book out of an open third story window.
After high school, I did a hitch in the army and a tour in Vietnam. I got married, had a daughter, followed by my first divorce. Now in my twenties, I still had the music in me, but didn’t know how to express it. I tried trumpet. I bought a horn, paid for some private lessons, forced myself to learn some rudimentary music theory, and gave up after a short time. I still hadn’t found my place in the world of music.
My sense of rhythm was still strong. I spent time in clubs listening to bands, and going to concerts. I saw many of the great bands of the 70s and 80s, mesmerized by the driving beat that seemed to provide the backbone for the great guitarists, keyboardists, horn players, and singers. Yes, it was the drums, but there was something else driving the beat that I couldn’t quite identify. It wasn’t until the mid 70s that I finally figured it out. It was the one guitar player that only had 4 strings. He was the one that made my chest vibrate when I stood near the stage. It was he who provided the thumping beat that complimented the drummer. It was the bass player. This is the instrument I should have learned from the start, but alas, I’m in my thirties. It’s too late.
Now focused on the bass player, I continued attending concerts and going to clubs. I would get as close to the bassist as I could, admiring his or her skills as she pounded out those beautiful low tones. At a U2 concert with floor tickets, my friends hung around center stage watching Bono sing, while I gravitated to the side of the stage and spent the entire concert spellbound by Adam Clayton on the bass. Filled with regret for not having learned this wondrous instrument, I could only fantasize about being on stage and giving the world this beautiful back beat. I was destined to spend the remainder of my life wishing I could go back to the day I let myself get drummed out of the band, and choosing a different path.
Three marriages, two divorces, three kids, and a few grand-kids later, it’s 2018. I’ve obtained two college educations, enjoyed two different careers, and am now happily married and retired. Life couldn’t get any better for me. Then it happened. In November of that year, I was diagnosed with throat cancer. My first thought was that my life was over: but it was just beginning.
In January of 2019, I began radiation treatment and chemotherapy. This treatment continued until the end of February, when I began the long and slow process of recovering from the radiation. I was unable to eat, and lost a great deal of weight, so a feeding tube was inserted into my stomach. I spent my days in the recliner watching reruns and pouring a liquid formula into my tube. During this recovery period, I had plenty of time to think. I thought about my past and my future. I thought about all the things I had done, the things I wish I had done, and the things I regretted. Visions of that music book sailing out of a third story window haunted me, and I wished I could change that. I wished I hadn’t been so arrogant, and had learned music. Most of all, I wished I had taken up bass when I was young. That’s when those haunting words crept back into my mind and spoke to me:
Don’t die with the music still in you.
Hi Pam, just read your story, you are an inspiration to all of us
Best wishes
Brian
Thank you Brian, that means a lot to me.
Pam
Howdy Pam and Happy New Year! I was just on the B2B forum and saw in one of your replies to a thread the link to your story. Awesome…You are an inspriration.
Thank you very much. I want to help and inspire others as much as I am able.
Hey Pam, I didn’t know this existed until right now. You always inspire all us b-buzzer
LOL thank you!
Pam
So very many reasons why you are the Bad Ass Bass Gal.
Thank you Eric!
Wow! Hi Pam, it’s Shaina from Aris bass group in fb, and we’re in the same EZ’s on Fridays! Anyway, I found myself on your page because of that amazing video Ari mentioned, and wow! Reading this was so unexpectedly inspiring to say the least! Thank you for sharing you story! I really feel better about starting to learn now as well as I’m in my thirties. I really love that quote – don’t die with the music still in you. I have had my personal medical conditions (not to compare at all!) and surgeries and the last one earlier… Read more »
That’s a great story Shaina. Thank you for sharing it!
Pam