It’s that time in my life when one by one, the teachers, musicians and friends who influenced me most are starting to pass away. Some time ago, my undergraduate composition teacher, Dr. T. Scott Huston passed. More recently, in 2014, my high school choral director, Jack Elliott passed, and the choral composer I admire most, Stephen Paulus, succumbed to the effects of a stroke and left us. Yesterday (November 2, 2015), David Stock, my graduate composition teacher unexpectedly passed, as well.
When I enrolled at Duquesne to begin my Masters degree in 2007 at the age of 56, I had been composing choral music for some time and had enjoyed success publishing my music. I went back to graduate school when I could see retirement on the horizon, and with it the opportunity to begin a new career. I wanted to teach music and composition and I wanted to expand my compositional comfort zone. But I was most apprehensive about studying composition again – this time as a graduate student. I was anxious over what a new composition teacher would expect from a composer who had been separated from academia for 33 years.
The first time I met David, I noticed several CDs of his music among the disorganized stacks of scores in his office. I asked him if I could buy copies, that I might become familiar with his music (I figured it might help me understand what I was in for). I didn’t have to buy them – he gave them to me. After listening to his 2nd Symphony, I knew he was the man to teach me. David didn’t push me, he led me. He didn’t try to change me, he helped me change myself – and at my own pace. He acknowledged that I already was a composer – which for me was huge. We talked about sports and politics as much as music and I looked forward to every session we had together.
I was in the audience at Heinz Hall when David’s 6th Symphony was premiered by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra in 2013 and I was so proud of him. An amazingly talented composer and teacher, David was never arrogant or boastful. Even considering his considerable accomplishments, I found him to be unassuming and gracious. Last among the acknowledgments in my Masters thesis, I thanked David “for accepting (without judgment) my compositional skills, understanding where I wanted to go, what I needed to learn to get there, and through his skillful tutelage, managing to guide me without damaging that fragile entity that is the composer‘s psyche.” I will miss him so very much.
I understand that grief at the loss of these dear friends and the fear of losing others is natural and to be expected. But what I feel is more than just the loss of friends. I believe that all that I am, as a musician, composer and music teacher, consciously or not, is the coalescence of what I have absorbed from the teachers, conductors (Robert Page, Elmer Thomas) and composers that impacted me throughout my life. What troubles me most is the feeling that those who have left us, passed on to us their ideas, their beliefs, their philosophies, and those of us they left behind bear the responsibility of carrying on those ideas, beliefs, and philosophies.
And there are many times I doubt I’m up to the task.