On this, the first day of spring, I'm not going to confess about myself. I'm not going to talk about the workouts I did or didn't do, the food I ate, the beers I drank. Instead, I'm going to confess about someone else.
Today I'm going to confess how proud I am of my son, D. He's a 14 year old high-school freshman who somehow manages to get up at 5:45 AM three days a week to practice with this group - Jazz I at his high school (D is the only freshman to have made the group - he's the 2nd trombone player from the right in the green tie).
He never complains about getting up early (and gets up 100% on his own - I'm not even awake yet when his dad takes him to school) and he goes to bed at a decent time without issue. All the practice time and dedication are paying off. He's first chair in his concert band (which is a mix of all grades) and now wants to form a smaller jazz ensemble with a couple of his friends. Jazz I competed at Western Michigan University on St. Pat's Day. They didn't win, but several of the members of the group won awards for their solo performances. I think they sounded pretty damn good.
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