I can confidently assume that somewhere in the depths of the inspirational and meaningful quote libraries lies a phrase in the same vein as this: “Without one’s passions, one would become, simply, none.”
A person’s identity is nothing more than all his interests and experiences piled together. Most of us have a few particular endeavors that take up most of our time, and besides the obvious answer — school — I seem to concentrate most on work, Boy Scouts and music.
But it will be music that I will focus this essay around; it is a relatively new passion, but one that has taken hold and sunken its roots deep. It must have begun long before it really started, because others, and myself on occasion, simply assume I have been playing music for many years.
This isn’t the case, however; I got my first drum kit in the winter of freshman year. After a few months of frustrating self-teaching that nonetheless yielded results, I began studying with Todd Zimberg.
It was the classic “becoming a man” scenario that occurs so often in sports, only this time it was through music education. Early in this journey, I realized that music teachers are there to instruct proper form and demonstrate worthwhile exercises, but the actual progression of proficiency is not made in the half-hour sessions. It lies in the space between the formal instruction, when it is the responsibility of the student to take the given knowledge and apply it through practice.
After this realization the lessons were like checkpoints on a long mountain hike. Progress was continual, but it was measured in those weekly lessons. At the end of one of the lessons, Todd requested that I accompany his wife Maggie and the Vashon High School choir at the next recital.
I, as well as a few other drummers, gave the piano an ethnic backdrop with which to groove on, and thankfully it was quite simple, because this was my first musical moment on stage, and I was quite overwhelmed with it all.
As with everything except bowling, the more you do something, the easier it becomes (bowling is the exception because it tires out the dominant arm, reducing the accuracy of the throw). Performing onstage went from stressful to nonchalant, and the number of performances has continually grown.
Quite frequently I perform in the monthly VHS Open Mic, and in addition to my band, Club Drift, I have accompanied Tayt Held, Outback Jazz, Bob’s Your Uncle, and, most recently, the Vashon Voices holiday performance “Let it Snow.”
School has also been an excellent place to express myself musically. Open Mic is of course a school function, but I have been in band both my junior and senior years, and am also a percussionist in the extracurricular jazz band club. Recently, I also began to pursue my second instrument, the guitar, and am realizing how similar yet completely different each musical path becomes.
There is probably another, better structured, more philosophical quote somewhere that reads similarly to this: “The best pitching arm in the world is useless on the soccer field.”
The point being that passions and talents are not meant to be used and then forgotten when circumstances change; they exist for the enjoyment of oneself and others.
Wherever my long, winding mountain trail takes me, be it New York or otherwise, I know at the periodic checkpoints in the journey I will proudly announce that music has continued to be an integral part of my personal identity.
— Greg Pendergast is a freshman at Columbia University.
