Let All My Life Be Music

Mary Beth Cunningham and me, July 1975

And on a thrilling major chord

There let life end.

We said goodbye on Sunday.

Mary Beth Cunningham was one of my private voice teachers during high school. I started voice lessons when I was in junior high. My first teacher moved, and, at the time, I was devastated. I didn't like change as a child any more than I like it now.

But it turned out to be one of those blessings in disguise, though I certainly don't want to imply anything against my first teacher. For a year or so, Mrs. Cunningham didn't have room to add me to her studio. Thankfully, my parents convinced Nancy Kerr to teach me, though she wasn't teaching full-time. She is a phenomenal soprano, and I learned a great deal from her in my short time under her tutelage. I have always been grateful.

I then became Mrs. Cunningham's student, and we finished the final two years of my high school career together.

I wasn't much of an athlete. I was out for sports, but I spent my time scrimmaging against the first-team girls during practice and holding down the end of the bench during games. I was more known for singing The Star-Spangled Banner in my basketball uniform than I was for actually playing ball in it.

Music was my thing, especially vocal music. Mrs. Cunningham believed in pushing students. I remember the first song I sang for my initial voice teacher was "Tammy," from a television show. Mrs. Kerr and Mrs. Cunningham had me singing soprano arias. Mrs. Cunningham believed in working hard and striving for excellence. It was a message that resonated with this first-born overachiever.

Because I have accompanied for school, I would sometimes see Mrs. Cunningham at music festivals, where she still served as a judge. Watching her work with middle school students always took me back to my days standing at her piano, where she taught me to breath deeply, to enunciate and, most importantly, to interpret the music. But, even years after my lessons ended, I never could bring myself to call her anything other than "Mrs. Cunningham."

Yesterday morning at church, I sang a solo for special music. As Mrs. Cunningham's vocal student, we were always working on a religious solo. Each summer during the church choir hiatus, I'd sing at both my church, Pratt First United Methodist, and at hers, Pratt Presbyterian. After I sang yesterday, I shared with the congregation how influential Mrs. Cunningham had been on my life, and that she still impacts my life 40 years after walking out of her living room studio after my final lesson with her. It's a good lesson in how people touch us, and a reminder of the great connections we can make by using our God-given gifts in love and service to others - no matter our vocation, interests or talents.

My sister, Darci, also took voice lessons from Mrs. Cunningham, but she and my sister, Lisa, have always preferred piano. My brother, Kent, had her for private lessons, and she was also his high school vocal teacher at Pratt High School, where she directed him as the lead in The Music Man. My niece, Madison, was the last in our family to take private lessons from Mrs. Cunningham. (Kent & Madi sang a beautiful duet version of The Lord's Prayer at yesterday's memorial.)

After my senior year in high school and before I went to K-State, I gave a senior recital. It was 40 years ago this month on July 27, 1975. My sister, Lisa, and Mrs. Cunningham accompanied me. I sang several arias, along with art songs and selections from musicals.

One of the songs that afternoon was called, Let All My Life Be Music by Charles G. Spross.  (Click the link for Ben Heppner's version.) When I got to college and wanted to sing it in one of my voice classes, my college instructor thought it was a little too melodramatic. It probably was. But I always loved it anyway.

As I've remembered Mrs. Cunningham, those words came back to me:

Let all my life be music
Ah, let the heart of me be as a harp
Where joy and pain are blended harmony
Strike! Strike! The harp that is my soul
Though pain or joy it bring
My only sorrow to be dumb,

My only joy to sing!
And when the Great Musician plays
In notes of joy or pain
Then let my heart respond and sing
Though in a minor strain
A wondrous song! A living song! A rapturous song! Oh send!

And on a thrilling major chord

There let life end.

During the memorial service, a choir composed of her students sang, directed by her former colleague, Don Buhler. We got together Saturday morning to practice, and, by Sunday afternoon, we were performing four songs. There was a wide age range -- from high school students, who just lost their private teacher, to people like me, who still remember the lessons after 40 years. Others were in her school or church choirs sometime during her 56 years in music education.

Thanks to my sister-in-law, Suzanne, for snapping a photo

The final song was Battle Hymn of the Republic. For former Pratt High School choir members, this selection was a quintessential program finale for their former teacher.

And as the final notes in four-part harmony drifted away on the stage of Liberty Middle School in Pratt, I thought again to the lines from "Let All My Life Be Music."

And when the Great Musician plays
In notes of joy or pain
Then let my heart respond and sing...

And on a thrilling major chord

There let life end.

It was a fitting tribute to a life well lived.

Thank you, Mrs. Cunningham -- 1936-2015

Start the Music!

For the first time in 20 years, I'm not playing the piano for the spring semester at school. They are in much more competent hands, those of a true pianist, my good friend, Linda, who has also been accompanying for the past several years.

I've always been more of a vocalist than pianist. If my piano teacher, Mrs. Lighter, were still alive, you could ask her. I was the least talented of the Moore sisters who sat at the piano bench in front of her baby grand piano each week.

(From our 1965 Christmas card, from left to right: Darci, me and Lisa)

I am sure she would be amazed that I lasted this long!

(The piece was called Drifting Moon)

It feels a little discordant to not have that daily appointment at the piano bench, but a shifting schedule at school made it the right decision for me. I may still help marginally with solos for festivals, but Linda will be the accompanist. And that's OK.

But just because I'm not in the classroom every Monday through Friday this semester, it doesn't mean I still don't find overwhelming value in music education in the public schools.

Yesterday, I saw a link via Facebook about a new study from the University of Vermont's College of Medicine about the value of music.  I emailed both Jill and Brent (and didn't hear back from either one, by the way.)

Brent has said more than once:  "Giving me piano lessons was like throwing money down the drain." I've always vehemently disagreed, though I realize he will never accompany a classroom of vocal music students or even sit at a piano and play it for fun.

 

1997 piano recital - Jill and Brent with Mrs. Dorothy Trinkle, their piano teacher.

Every week, I'd drive them to Dorothy Trinkle's rural Preston home for piano lessons. She deserves a medal, by the way, for teaching piano so many years to so many children, including my reluctant pair.  Their music-loving mama also forced them to take private vocal music lessons for several years and to play instruments in the school band.

Was it child abuse? I think not. And the University of Vermont study is backing me up:

James Hudziak and his colleagues analyzed the brain scans of 232 children ages 6 to 18, looking for relationships between cortical thickness and musical training. Previous studies the team had performed revealed that anxiety, depression, attention problems and aggression correspond with changes to cortical thickness. Hudziak and his team sought to discover whether a "positive activity" like musical training could affect the opposite changes in young minds.


"What we found was the more a child trained on an instrument," Hudziak told The Washington Post, “it accelerated cortical organization in attention skill, anxiety management and emotional control."

The study found increased thickness in parts of the brain responsible for executive functioning, which includes working memory, attentional control and organizational skills. In short, music actually helped kids become more well-rounded.

My two turned out OK. They seem to have several of those attributes. Maybe it wasn't child abuse after all.