Road Trip Story: Indianapolis, Part II

I didn't know -- until I traveled to Indianapolis this time -- that the writer Kurt Vonnegut (a writer I admire) was from Indiana. He is purported to have once said: "All my jokes are Indianapolis. All my attitudes are Indianapolis. My adenoids are Indianapolis. If I ever severed myself from Indianapolis, I would be out of business. What people like about me is Indianapolis."

Where we are born does shape us though I'm sure the fact he was a prisoner of war in World War II and saw the firebombing of Dresden shaped him as well... so it will also be where you GO in life. And the point is to get OUT there.

There is a wonderful short story in Vonnegut's collection, Welcome to the Monkey House, which is called "The Kid Nobody Could Handle". What is so lovely about this story is the way it focuses on a teacher who imagines the BEST in his students (and will subsequently GET the best). George M. Helmholtz is a band instructor.

Here is a brief excerpt:

     Helmholtz's first class of the morning was C Band, where beginners thumped and wheezed and tooted as best they could, and looked down the long, long, long road through B Band to A Band, the Lincoln High School Ten Square Band, the finest band in the world.

Helmholtz stepped onto the podium and raised his baton.

"You are better than you think," he said. "A-one, a-two, a-three." Down came the baton.

C Band set out in its quest for beauty -- set out like a rusty switch engine, with valves stuck, pipes clogged, unions leaking, bearings dry.

Helmholtz was still smiling at the end of the hour, because he'd heard in his mind the music as it was going to be someday.

Kurt Vonnegut could be a dark and darkly comic writer and still have a sort of jelly donut core of sentimentality to him.

But I love that line by Helmholtz: "You are better than you think." This is true of many things in life. (Though there are sadly, some folks who think they are far better than OTHERS, a whole 'nother thing.)

It's the end of the story though, after he manages to bring a particularly challenging student, Jim Donnini, into band, I wanted to share:

     "Think of it this way," said Helmholtz. "Our aim is to make the world more beautiful than it was when we came into it. It can be done. You can do it."

A small cry of despair came from Jim Donnini. It was meant to be private, but it pierced every ear with its poignancy.

"How?" said Jim.

"Love yourself," said Helmholtz, "and make your instrument sing about it. A-one, a-two, a-three." Down came the baton.

And so it goes.