Chapter 1

Hey...

My name is Michael Robert Thomas.

I was born on June the Fourth, 1998. I was only about six or seven years old when IT began. My mother explained I had started doing it even younger ... possibly as young as four.

Every time any music came on, on the radio, or the TV, I seemed to be doing some form of movement. Apparently, my butt couldn’t stop moving regardless of the style or tempo involved.

The summer I turned ten years old (2008), my butt finally stopped, mostly. However, now my hands were following along with the music. I started enjoying the more orchestrated pieces of music.

My mother had been a professional singer before I had been born and stopped to raise me after my father passed away when I was about five years old. She taught me how to read music and things got easier from there.

It’s now 2011
I was rather small for my age and my mother, for whatever reason, held me back. Due to my early birthday, I turned thirteen the summer before sixth grade began. Since I wasn’t terribly tall, it was not as bad as it could have been.

I hoped I could make up for that sometime in the future. Mom promised me she wouldn’t make a big deal over this, telling me that it was possible for me to eventually catch up, as long as I applied myself.

Yeah ... right?

On my thirteenth birthday, my mother gave me a Mollard brand Conductor’s Baton, with a Zebrawood handle, and a white Birch Wood Shaft sixteen inches long. It arrived inside a walnut case. It was all so beautiful, and I gave her a big hug for it. That was longer than Harry Potter’s initial wand.

Now, I felt important! My mother let me get the sheet music to the songs I heard on the radio. I would listen and follow along.

Once I got the song understood, I would place the sheet music on my bed starting the song again and waving my baton just barely ahead of the beat like real conductors did. I found that out on the internet.

I had come to the realization that once I went through a number from start to finish, I didn’t need that sheet music anymore. It’s like it was saved on my brain’s hard drive. I only hoped I had the capacity to hold a lot of data.I read on the internet that the average brain’s capacity was like 2.5 petabytes. I had to look up what that meant, but if I were a compulsive book reader I could read and maintain over 4.7 millions books. The Library of Congress holds 22.3 million books, Wow!

Jackson Heights Elementary School (First thru eighth grade), the name of the school I attended, has a small band of only nine, but needed someone to keep them on the beat.

When I volunteered, I was laughed at, because no one outside of my own mother, had a clue that I ever did this.

There was a music stand, with the music to be played already on it. The classroom teacher to the band, Mr. Paul Planck, played the piano. I went into my backpack and got the case and took out my conductor’s baton.

The first number was “Moon River,” from BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY’S (1961) and I raised my baton and noticed that they weren’t looking at me. I gently tapped the music stand in front of me, having seen that from watching Keith Lockhart (Boston Pops Orchestra Conductor).

That got their attention!

Now, I raised the baton and now their eyes were all on me. A slight shudder went down my back. The piano began this rendition, so I turned my baton hand (I am a lefty) slightly to Mr. Planck and gave him the downbeat. As he began, I moved to the rest of them and pointed at the guitarist. He joined in and then the rest of them did.

As the end of the song approached, I knew the piano made some nice musical chords, I pointed at Paul for each one, and four measures later the number was over. I gave the band my applause, and then turned and bowed to the classroom of about three dozen students.

Harold McGowan, the principal of JHES, stood up and applauded vigorously, and then the rest of them got up as well. What a thrilling feeling!

After a few seconds, now with a bit more confidence, I turned back around and asked the band, “How about another one?”

They seemed eager!

I moved “Moon River” over and underneath it was “I Dreamed a Dream.” (From LES MISÉRABLES - 1995) There was a note that an eighth-grade girl would be singing with them. I saw her. We made eye contact. Wow! She was nearly a foot taller than me. And pretty with long blonde hair!

This song also started with the piano. I raised my baton ... they looked right at me. I turned to Mr. Planck and gave him the downbeat. He played alone until the girl singer started, her name was Jenifer and then the rest of the band joined in.

I put down the baton deciding to use my hands and arms instead. After the piano had finished the melodic intro, I pointed to the young lady who had begun to sing, “I Dreamed a Dream.”

I smiled at her. She smiled back as I kept her on the beat as well. The rest of the band was watching as I brought them into the song, after she had sung the intro. They played with more energy and emotion than the first song.

Towards the end of the music, I brought everyone who was playing down in volume, so she could sing the end of this well-known piece of music with quiet accompaniment. Mr. Planck played the last eight measures as the class and the principal all stood up and applauded.

I took my baton and made a grand motion for my musicians to stand, and I turned around putting my hand out for the lovely young lady who sang. She came over, and I kissed her hand. She blushed and bowed and then I turned taking my bow.

That years of watching the Boston Pops and Lawrence Welk reruns as a little kid came to fruition! I motioned for them all to sit.

Principal McGowan came up and said, “Well done, Mr. Thomas -- this might be the beginning of a wonderful gift you have. These youngsters behind you never sounded better. Mr. Planck even stayed on the beat. I especially would like to thank our fourteen-year-old virtuosa, Miss Jennifer Guthrie. Well-done, young lady! I believe we need the whole school to hear our band with Mr. Thomas leading them, don’t you think?”

I stepped to him saying, “Sir, the piano is out of tune somewhere between middle C and D.”

Mr. Planck found the problem musically. The room busted up with kids laughing.

“You are all dismissed for lunch. Mr. Thomas and Miss Guthrie, stay behind for a moment, please?”

I took my baton and put it back in its case, putting it in my pack.

After the place was empty, he began, “Mr. Thomas, that was brilliant! Why didn’t I know beforehand that you could do that?”

“Sir, I have been ‘playing’ at conducting for as long as I can remember. This was the very first time I conducted with real live musicians. I didn’t want to be embarrassed, so I kept it to myself,” I explained.

“Miss Guthrie,” Principal McGowan said. “Why don’t the two of you come up with ... about ... a dozen pieces of music for a school-wide performance? Then, why don’t we plan this for just before school lets out in November? We can invite parents and family. How does that sound to you, Michael?”

“Wonderful, Sir. We have a Grand piano in our house. My mother could play whatever we find for ... Jennifer to sing?”

“Call me Jenn,” she said with a marvelous grin.

“Wonderful. You’re on a first-name basis already. You have three months to put this together,” Principal McGowan said leaving. He seemed so excited.

“Does Jackson Heights even have a choir?” I asked her.

“Yes, we do,” she answered. “That was fabulous the way you just took control like that. I knew the song, but your conducting was very helpful.”

“I have never heard a girl sing that song, or any song for that matter, so beautifully,” I said. “What do we choose, modern music or Broadway, or ... what?”

“If we have twelve or so songs, we can have a mix of each. I will sing a few. Maybe we could get the choir to sing one or two?” she said.

“We need at least one that is the band, the choir and you. You have such a lovely voice. I will probably go to sleep tonight thinking of you ... your voice,” I said, probably blushing.

She leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I smiled at her. A young lady came in and said, “Jenn ... we have a class. Come on.”

She left, and I watched her walk away. Oh, Wow!

The next day, I was thinking of music and Jenn. I may have been younger and a foot shorter than her, but she is so ... darn ... pretty!

I had an iPod Touch with 64GB of internal storage, with only a few hundred songs on it. I started to listen to music that would work all the rest of the day, every chance I could, between classes.

We had to include “I Dreamed a Dream,” she had sung it so very well. My mother, being a private music and singing instructor, could help her achieve those notes with even more confidence.

Our band of nine needed some help. Their small size caused the few missteps to be obvious. That started me walking up to kids I didn’t know and asked them to join the band. I felt a little like Professor Harold Hill from THE MUSIC MAN (1962).

Some of them said ‘Yes,’ and I directed them where to go. I found the School Chorister, who had seen our ‘Two song Concert,’ and she got excited about that. Her name is Miss Cece Crabtree, also blonde and quite pretty. Jenn is prettier!

“Principal McGowan told me about you, Michael,” she said to me. “Quite a talent!”

“Thank you, Miss Crabtree. Sometime later this week, I would like to sit in on your class, if that would be all right with you?”

“Certainly. How about Thursday, the day after tomorrow? Jennifer is my best student, but you likely know that already, don’t you?” she said to me.

“Yes Ma’am, I do. She is so very good. My mother is the former Janice Forrester, now a private teacher of voice and instrument. Would you mind if she were to help Jennifer?”

“No, not at all. I know of your mother by reputation. What I wouldn’t give if she could help our entire choir for even one day!”

“Let me ask her that, Ma’am. I have a way of getting her to help me out. At least, it works over half the time.”

That made her giggle a bit.

“See you on Thursday, Ma’am,” I said.

I turned and almost ran into Jennifer.

“Hi, Jennifer. How is your day going?”

“Fine. Were you just talking to Miss Crabtree?”

“Yes. I asked her if the choir was available and she said ‘Yes.’ I promised to ask my mother to see if she could help or not?”

“Who is your mother?” she asked me. What a beauty!

“Janice Forrester,” I answered.

“I have heard of her, why isn’t she a ‘Thomas?’”

“She kept her professional name after retiring. She sang for over ten years,” I said. “Forrester is her maiden name.”

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Jennifer said.

“What side of town do you live on Jenn — Jennifer?”

“It’s OK. You can call me Jenn ... can I call you Mike or Michael?”

“You can call me anything you want ... but, I prefer Michael, especially the way it sounds when you say it. My mother insists on calling me Michael, except when she gets upset at me. She is going to be surprised. I had not intended to do anything like this at all. I had been content to be invisible here.”

“Well, you aren’t anymore! I take the number eleven bus to go home, how about you?” she asked. Her shoulder length blonde hair and blue eyes caught my attention.

“Oh, I take the eleven, sorry?”

“I just said that I took the eleven, are you OK?” she asked me with a giggle.

“Sorry, distracted, I guess. You don’t have a boyfriend who might just stuff me in a locker, do you?”

That was way too obvious.

“As a matter of fact, we broke up two weeks ago. I am all yours,” she said.

Could she possibly realize what she just said, I wondered to myself?

“I have one more class then I will meet you at the buses, OK?” I asked her.

“Sounds like a plan, see you later, Michael.”

“OK,” I responded. Damn, my name sounds great when she says it like that.

I looked at my watch and ran to my English class!

I met her at the buses, letting her get on first. We sat together. Everybody on the bus was looking at me. The third stop was hers. Mine was normally the sixth. I touched her arm when she got up for her stop. “Thank you, Michael, I forgot I was going to your house.”

The looks persisted, but it was mostly the girls giving me odd gazes. At my stop, I got up early and announced, “The band and the choir at Jackson Heights could use more people. Anybody who can sing or play an instrument is welcome.”

I took Jennifer by the hand, and we got off the bus together.

“That was a great idea, Michael. Maybe you should get on all the buses and make that same announcement?” she said. “The choir isn’t very big either.”

I had rather presumptuously taken her hand to help her get off the bus, so I dropped it right after we got off. After walking about one hundred feet, she took me by the hand. Cool!

Another block and a half, and we were walking up the steps to my home. I just walked in putting my hand on her back for just a moment. Mom was helping a young woman with her French horn. She waved to us, as I took Jennifer into the kitchen.

“Would you like something to drink?” I asked her.

“Only water, I need to keep my instrument moist,” she said.

I nearly broke up laughing, but I didn’t as we sat and had our drinks together. I heard the front door open and close. Mom came through the kitchen door. I stood up.

“I have been wondering when you might bring a girl home, Michael, but, I believe you are an eighth-grader, aren’t you, Dear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said. “My name is Jennifer Guthrie. You might know my mother, Alice?”

“Oh --Yes, I do. She’s lovely and has a remarkable voice! Do you sing, Jennifer?”

“Like an angel, Mom,” I said.

Oh, I got it bad, don’t I?

They both smiled at me. “Sit down for a moment, Mother. I need to tell you about my day. It may shock you.”

It did, as I told her, all that had happened, bit by bit. She thought what we had planned sounded like a good idea. Jenn had taken me by the arm while I had done this.

“Jennifer dear, do you know your vocal range?” my mother asked her, as she stood to go back to the piano.

“I know the notes that I am the most comfortable singing, but I have never had my actual vocal range explained to me,” she said, as we followed her.

“Let’s find out,” my mother said. “Michael, you can stay, provided you can be quiet.”

“Yes, Ms. Forrester,” I answered. That made Jennifer giggle.

Mom just ‘harrumphed’ at me, as I sat down to listen.

They began with Jennifer warming up. I have heard most of those cute trills that singers warm up with. Mom tried them out on me before we had decided, years ago, that I should never become a singer.

I knew Jenn could sing relatively high notes, but her lower register really surprised me. Every AH-ah-ah-ah-AHHH-ah-ah-ah-ah was beautiful. The middle part of that is held for a count of four before you come back down to the note you started on.

I was smiling at Jenn, while she sang. She is so pretty, plus she sings with such a strong voice. She seems out of my league, but she took my arm, didn’t she?

She didn’t know I was thirteen and I was wondering when I would tell her the truth. I decided to wait until my next birthday, unless it blows up in my face before that, somehow.

They started the upper register next. Boy, Jenn hit those notes like an opera star or something. Mom was singing some of the notes with her occasionally patting her stomach explaining about her diaphragm.

Mom mentioned that she hadn’t heard such a clear mezzo soprano in many years. That got Jennifer excited. What came next got me excited.

“Do you have any time after school, to come over and work on your tone and breath control?” my mother asked her.

“I was planning to come over the next couple of days so Michael and I could find some music to include in the November program. Would that work?”

“Certainly, you can work with me for a half hour. Then, Michael and you can do whatever it is you need to do. We happen to have a large amount of sheet music the two of you could peruse if you would like?”

I got up and took Jenn by the hand and said, “Thank you, Mother. Jennifer, you have the prettiest voice I have ever heard, not counting my own mother, of course.”

“Thank you, Ms. Forrester,” Jenn said as I opened the file cabinet it was all in, starting to ‘peruse’ the enormous amount of sheet music we had (Two full four-drawer file cabinets). If it were anything else, we could be accused of hoarding.

“Michael, come here, please?” my mother said in a tone I recognized.

“Yes, Ms. Forrester,” I answered with coolness.

“She is a very nice girl and an excellent singer. I am surprised that you two are seemingly involved, I noticed you taking her by the hand just now. Be a gentleman, please? Find something to show off her voice. I can help get her ready if you would like?”

“That would be wonderful. Did I mention that we were going to include the Jackson Heights School Choir?”

“Yes, you did forget to mention that. Go ahead and give me your pitch on this. You have always been good at getting me to offer free training,” she said with a slight smirk on her face.

I brought Jenn back in, putting my arm around her waist. “You have taken this young lady, and in thirty short minutes, you have made her sound like the next Julie Andrews, Sarah Brightman, or even Jenny Lind. Just think what you could do with a handful of fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth graders. It would be the best thing since ... since, SISTER ACT 2 (1993)!”

I looked at Jenn, who had leaned into me a little. I saw mom rocking side to side a little. It’s something that she does whenever she is mulling over a decision.

I saw a smile come on her face, and she said, “All right ... do I need to go to the school, or could you bring them here?”

“I can find out tomorrow, but probably you would need to come to the school. I told them their Band room piano was out of tune, so let’s wait until it gets fixed.”

“All right dear. You got what you wanted out of me. Should I warn Jennifer of your persistence?”

“Janice!” She hated that!

We started to go through our abundance of sheet music. I would expect that we have some that isn’t even on the Internet. I hoped to find on iTunes whatever we find, so that I could listen to the song.

First thing we found was the Beatles single, “Across the Universe.”

Jenn said, “If your mother can do for the entire choir what she just did for me, this would be a very pretty song.”

She leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I said, “Thank you, Jennifer.”

“You’re welcome,” she said with a beautiful dimpled grin. It reminded me of Jennifer Garner, but with natural blonde hair to her shoulders. Plus, blue eyes!

“Here is a song for you to sing with just the piano, ‘Amazing Grace.’ Ask Janice to play it for you. She likes you -- I can tell.”

I continued pacing until it began. I heard mom start it, and then Jenn’s beautifully clear voice took over. I quietly walked back into the room to listen...

JENNIFER
Amazing Grace,
how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but
now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
T’was Grace that taught
my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did
that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers,
toils and snares
I have already come;
‘Tis Grace that brought
me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.
The Lord has
promised good to me.
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield
and portion be,
As long as life endures.

Yea, when this flesh
and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.
Yes, when this flesh
and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease;
I shall profess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

It went on to the end. Janices’ playing was even sounding better than usual. My eyes had no chance ... I started crying like a baby. I began to conduct as the second chorus began. I swear I could hear a full symphony orchestra and an enormous choir enveloping her as I deeply felt every note of this.

Mom was adding to it carefully, but beautifully. Jenn would add a vocal run as she felt this music like we all did.

When it was over, forgetting my mother was in the room for a minute, I walked over and gave Jennifer a kiss, but not on the cheek. My arms wrapped themselves around her, and hers were around me as well.

After a moment of looking at each other, my mother cleared her throat.

“Jennifer,” she said, “That was, in a word, Amazing! Once you have graduated from high school, I would love you to come over and record that. Then, you could send it to every college that offers a degree in voice. You could even possibly get into Juilliard. That’s how good I believe you can become.”

“You have the potential to be the next Julie Andrews, Sarah Brightman, or Jenny Lind, as this brash young man so aptly said earlier. I will give you voice lessons for as long as you would like, for free. That is how much confidence, I have in you.”

They gave one another a nice hug, something my mother doesn’t usually do with a student, especially a brand new one.

We had only found six songs when Jenn looked at her cell phone and remarked, “Ms. Forrester, could I please get a ride home? I only live about a mile from here,” she asked.

“Can I go with?” I asked.

“Like I could stop you, Michael,” mom said.

Jenn’s phone rang, “I know I am late, Mother. I had the chance to work with Janice Forrester. I just lost track of time. Yes, she is giving me a ride home. I will be home before you know it, bye.”

“She’s not mad. I just forgot to text her,” Jenn said as we got in the back seat together.

“I would like to come in and say hello to her. Would she mind that?” Mom asked her.

“I am certain she would love that. Thank you for the ride. I am so anxious to be old enough to drive. Then Michael and I can drive to your place together,” Jenn said.

“Won’t you need a parent or guardian during daylight hours?” I asked.

“Darn. You’re right, Michael. The last two days have been remarkable, first you direct the orchestra wonderfully, and then I got nearly an hour with the most prestigious music teacher in all of Indiana. We should have all the music we want by Friday; don’t you think?”

I gave her a peck on the cheek, then said, “I think we can. As long as my talented mother doesn’t mind driving you home each day.”

“Don’t push it, Michael,” came from the front seat. “Which house is it, Jennifer?”

“The pink one, 11709, to be exact.”

She pulled up. I helped them both out.

“At least he still has the good manners his father had taught him before he passed,” my mother said.

“I will tell you all about that tomorrow,” I said to Jenn as we all went up to the front door.

Jennifer opened it up with her key saying, “Mother ... we have guests.”

I heard bare feet coming into the room. The moment her mom saw my mom -- it was phenomenal. They hugged like old friends, which it turned out they were. They sat down and started reminiscing about something or other.

Her mother looked over at us holding hands and asked, “This ... is little Mikey?”

I was gritting my teeth over being called that for the umpteenth time. I am only 4ft9 to Jennifer’s 5ft8. I hope I get taller quickly.

I said, “I am hoping to get at least tall enough to take Jennifer out to dance somewhere before we both graduate from high school!”

Her mother laughed and said, “Michael, she has this big shit-hea ... doofus for a boyfriend. He would swallow you up and spit you out.”

“Mother, we broke up over two weeks ago! Michael and I are a couple now, live with it.”

Jenn pulled me into the hallway as I said, “Nice to meet you, Ma’am.”

Jennifer took me to see her room, which was so much nicer, and cleaner, than mine, with a light fragrance to it. She had a queen-sized bed and a walk-in closet. I saw more pairs of shoes than you could count.

She sat on the edge of her bed saying, “I told her at least twice, that I had broken up with Billy Chapman. She never listens to me. Your mother is so nice.”

“Well, while they are getting caught up, what would you like to do?” I asked her, as I sat down right beside her on her bed.

She pulled me to her, and we had an open-mouthed kiss. At first, her tongue barged its way into my mouth. I hadn’t done this before, but it sure felt nice. She rolled over on top of me, causing this to get very ‘Up Close and Personal.’

Suddenly, I felt her being pulled off me. “That’s enough of that! How dare you treat my daughter like this!”

My mom had walked into the room as well, as Alice said, “Your son was making out with my daughter on her bed, Jan. Teach him some responsibility, please?”

I saw mom rearing up, ready to tear this ‘old friend’ a new ear, but I pulled her back, “Let’s go, Mom.”

“See you at school, Jenn.”

We had a very quiet drive home. She had tried to start a conversation a couple of times, but nothing came of it.

As we were getting out of the car, she asked, “Who really initiated that kiss?”

“She did, but I let it happen. Isn’t that just as bad?”

“Michael! You must truly care about her, don’t you?”

“I don’t know. I had no idea who she was until ten am this morning. If somebody hadn’t come in, I am not sure what might have happened between us, Mom.”

“Well, it didn’t. That was very old-fashioned of you to take the hit,” she responded. “Don’t worry. Alice always was high-strung. Her husband went on a business trip ... eight years ago and never returned. He just vanished. She even hired a private detective. No one knows where he went, or if he is still alive or not.”

“That’s so sad,” I said. “That’s why she was so protective of her daughter, wasn’t it?”

“Understanding that will help you get to know her better, honey. I see how you look at Jennifer. I also see how she looks at you. Be careful.”

“I sure will, Mom. I am sorry that I was rude earlier to you. You deserve being treated like a princess.”

“That’s sweet, Michael. Let’s go out for dinner. I don’t feel like cooking tonight.”

The next day at school, I was asked to report to Principal McGowan’s office. I had no clue what this might be about.

I walked into the office and told to sit down. After a few moments, Jennifer walked in. I stood up and sat after she had.

“What’s going on, Michael?” she asked me.

“Don’t have a clue,” I answered.

The principal came out and motioned us in. In his office were Mr. Planck, the Band/Orchestra teacher, and Miss Crabtree, who teaches Choir.

“Go ahead, Paul,” Principal McGowan said to Mr. Planck.

Without standing, he turned and asked, “Michael, I was wondering why you recruited more people into the band?”

I stood up to answer, “As good as the nine existing members are, I would presume that getting some more people could only make your task easier, Sir. Exactly how many additional students have shown interest?”

“Fourteen, so far,” he said. “We don’t have the means for adding so many people at once.”

“How about a Fund Drive throughout the school, Sir. Every student tries to find $50 in funding, wouldn’t something like that help?” I suggested.

“Paul,” Principal McGowan said leaning back in his chair, “That’s not a bad idea. Not every student could do that, but with having over one thousand students here, we could potentially raise up to...”

“That’s $50,000, Sir,” I said. “Would that be enough for the new students, Mr. Planck?”

“Yes, it would be, more than enough,” he said, backing down a bit and breaking into a smile.

“Then, couldn’t the leftover money help the JHES choir as well?” I remarked.

“I was waiting for my turn, Mr. Thomas,” Miss Crabtree said. “I had sixteen new students wanting to join, as well. While I don’t need $50,000, at least, $5,000 would go a long way.”

I had one more point to make. So, I stood up and said, “I only spoke to a single busload of students, imagine if I got on the other buses over the next couple of days. I could significantly increase the numbers of students in the band and choir? We couldn’t have that, could we?”

I hoped they appreciated my sarcasm.

I started up again, “Imagine ... turning pupils away from something they want to do. We could end up with a nice orchestra of possibly thirty or more, plus a choir of as many, if not more.”

“How could we possibly reject this chance to make our students, their parents, and the whole community, proud of Jackson Heights Elementary School?”