The Retiring of a Name

I was recently having a conversation about names with my friend Jackson. I had remarked that I had once heard a comedian quip that to retire a number you must do good things (The retiring of 23 in Chicago for Michael Jordan). However to retire a name you must do bad things. For instance, the surname Hitler seems to have completely disappeared........

.......It has been about 20 minutes since I wrote that last part. I went on a 50 state search of the Surname Hitler and I must now retract my statement. I found 144 people with the last name of Hitler in the US. Please note that 9 of them are ACTUALLY Adolf Hitler with 5 more using a variation (Adalf, Adolph, etc...). I can only chalk this up to white supremacists gone wild (Or WSGW as we refer to it in the industry).

Other Hitlers I can also attribute to name changes, (or cruel, CRUEL parents)--they include the following:

Adolfo Hitler - Cross between Fabio and the Führer. Has a salon on 42nd Street.

Eva Hitler - too coincidental to not be a name change.

Gunsmoke Hitler - What you get when you cross Fascism and Nintendo

DeOmega Alpha Hitler - Wow.

Prince Hitler -This must have been the second name change. He changed it back to Prince Hitler after having so much difficulty explaining his previous name (which consisted of a symbol blending the male and female signs with a swastika).

TO

Vinny Hitler - Apparently the uniting of Italy and Germany meant more to some than others.

Shawanda Hitler - PLEASE tell me that this name change was marriage related.

I seem to have strayed from my original topic...and I have seriously wasted a half an hour that I will never get back.

Tender Mercies

I have learned, or rather I have been reminded that in life there are no coincidences. Let me tell you of a miracle 15 years in the making.

In June of 1993 I attended a concert for an obscure pianist named Jon Schmidt. He was very entertaining as he ripped out powerful and mesmerizing music. He was witty and knew how to work a crowd. There are musicians and then there are performers. Jon was both. Immediately after the concert I bought two of his tapes (yes, tapes...). After returning home I introduced some of my friends to Jon’s music and they were hooked. We became the Wyoming contingent of the Jon Schmidt fan club (unofficial...we were nerdy, but not THAT nerdy). I made a point to get to another of Jon’s concerts the following year.

At the 1994 concert Jon played a song entitled Tribute. The song had been written for his older sister, Rose-Anne, who had passed away. Jon took a moment to explain the song and it’s meaning to the crowd. He explained that throughout the song you can feel all the emotions that accompany the loss of a loved one. Sadness and loneliness yes, but also the peace and happiness of knowing that they are in a better place. And if you listen carefully, you can also hear the joy that will come when at last you are reunited. Jon then played a touching song that left an indelible mark on my soul. It was music that you could FEEL.

Not one week after that concert, I lost a dear friend in a motorcycle accident. As I pondered and questioned life, this song became a source of comfort to me. When I see so many people use death as an excuse to turn their back on all they profess to believe in, it reminds me that it is in desperate times that people tend to cling to that which they have surrounded themselves with. Surround yourself with things that edify, and in the moment of trial you will be edified. Submerse yourself in music or company which leads away from such inspiration, and your moment of truth may be your turning point toward a dark depressing future. I am grateful that, of all the influences that I could have grabbed onto, I grabbed one that was uplifting, inspiring, and helped me to take a horrible experience and be lifted as a result.

Throughout the years I have continued to follow Jon’s music. I have attended a few concerts, but lately the rush of life has prevented me from doing so. My iPod however has never forgotten Jon Schmidt. I change music and playlists as often as I change underwear (which is at least daily for all you haters...). But one playlist has been there literally from the day I shelled out the money for my digital wonder, and that is Jon’s music. I listen to it when I drive, I listen to it when I work out (which unfortunately isn’t as often as I change underwear...haters), It is my go-to music to find my solace and motivation.

The song Tribute had become my alarm clock. I loaded it on my Blackberry and I used it to wake myself as it starts off so peacefully. Two days before the accident, Joshua wanted to go outside and ride his bike. Well February in Wyoming can be quite cold, so I thought that I would first test him to see how badly he wanted to go outside. I told him that he needed to go stand outside for five minutes, and if he still wanted to go outside and play, then he had my permission. The time was 9:34AM, and I set my alarm for 9:39.
My alarm went off, I quickly turned it off, but did not reset it. My boy claimed to be warm, so off he went.

The next day, while in my office, the alarm went off again. I again turned it off, but did not reset it.

The next day was the day of the accident. I will not here relive the horrible experience. But there came a moment when I found myself alone in the hospital with the body of my dear son. It was 9:39 when that peaceful Tribute of loss and hope began to play. I just sobbed and sobbed. It was as if the Lord reached out and held me. I let the whole song play. I knew that the Lord knew two days before where I would be at 9:39 on Tuesday. I knew that the Lord knew 15 years ago where I would be at 9:39 on Tuesday.

I had a dear family friend play it at Joshua’s funeral. It was a beautiful stirring rendition that I will never forget. As the days and weeks have passed, I have shared the story with a select few. One of which was my dear friend Daisy who I introduced to Jon’s music so long ago.

A few weeks ago (through a careful orchestration by my friends), my family and I found ourselves high on the hills of Bountiful Utah, in the home of Leon and Marylin Davies, who were to that point strangers to us. Their beautiful home overlooked the valley and provided a wonderful place for what appeared to be a surprise party as many of my Wyoming friends began appearing at the residence.

At one point I turned around and there was Jon Schmidt himself. He had received word through Daisy of Joshua’s story and arranged to have a private concert for my family and friends.

The experience was amazing. He played, he entertained, and he was very gracious. We applauded after each song. My little boy Riley danced and laughed as I have not seen him do in a very long time. He giggled hysterically when Jon played the piano upside down. That in itself was a miracle.

Near the end of the concert, I took a moment to share with everyone my story of Tribute. I expressed my knowledge that Joshua will be ours again. Jon then played the song. The Spirit of God was in that room as we listened to the inspired melody, gazed across miles and miles of the Utah valley, and wept great tears of joy. As the song concluded, without any prompting whatsoever, not a single person clapped. The spirit in the room was so powerful, even the little children knew not to disturb it by applauding. We sat and we reveled in the peaceful joy that can only be felt when the Spirit of God wraps you in his arms.

I am grateful for the power of music. I am grateful for the love of friends. And I am grateful that a musician took precious time away from his family to bless our lives with his music.

Read Daisy's version of the story here.