A Confirmation from the Other Side

New Year’s Eve 2008 will always be a special memory. My wife and I had recently left the church because of Prop 8, and we decided to celebrate it in New York City. There are various reasons why this particular New Year’s Eve party was so memorable, and they are all very different and yet connected. Let me explain.

For as long as I can remember I have spent every New Year’s Eve celebration playing in a band. I am a jazz musician and this is the one gig each year where we actually get paid what we feel we are worth. I don’t remember ever being with my wife and having the chance to welcome in the New Year with a kiss at midnight. But that was going to change this year.

The 2008 trip to New York was also OUR “coming out” party; in 2005 our gay son had moved to Manhattan to fulfill his life-long dream of attending NYU. He was there studying for his Masters Degree in Psychology, with emphasis on treating adolescent gender issues. He had decided that it was now his role to help other young people, and their parents, traverse the troubling times he had experienced as a young gay boy. We wanted to spend this special time with him and his new-found family in New York. (He also went to New York because he no longer felt accepted or safe in Utah and remains there to this day.)

Knowing how much his parents love jazz, our son arranged for us to attend a party at a local favorite, Small Jazz Club in the Village. He even met the proprietor and told him why we were coming to New York. The fact that this was the first time not playing for a New Year’s Eve party was of particular interest to him. He told my son that after the third set (around 3:00 AM) the house band was going to open up the stage and allow patrons to jam with the band, and that I would be more than welcome to sit in on bass. Upon learning this I was overcome with excitement, but it quickly turned to terror. New York is where the best jazz musicians in the world go to play. How could a hick from Utah be able to represent!?!

We arrive in the city just after Christmas and had an amazing time seeing the sights, eating amazing food, and enjoying some of the most memorable Broadway shows ever. One show, SPRING AWAKENING, was chilling and so apropos for our family’s current circumstances. On the night of my first ever New Year’s Eve with my wife, we experienced our first champagne toast and kiss at midnight. It was magical. It was liberating.

The jazz that night was outstanding. All the professional musicians were the best I had ever heard, and when the jam session started, young kids from Julliard came out of the woodwork and killed it. I was mesmerized to hear such talented young people playing old-style jazz the right way. Around 4:00 AM I got up enough courage to sit in for one number on bass. We played BLUE MONK, a song I was very familiar with. I felt like a rock star!

OK, now back to the “Confirmation from the Other Side” part of this true story.

There is no denying that many people who leave the church struggle with the fear that their family members will be disappointed – especially parents. The pressure put upon us to create and maintain the perfect “celestial family” is beyond reasonable. It used to make me so mad when I would hear things like, “If you don’t do as God says, you will lose your family for eternity.” That is no different than what a terrorist demands! Near the end of my time in the church I used to wonder if God was really more like Osama Bin Laden, using fear to coerce me into conforming to His will. It was comforting to realize that it wasn’t God at all, but just power-hungry men using fear to try to control me.

Anyway, my concern about disappointing my family wasn’t a concern because I knew in my heart I was doing the right thing. I had one sibling who had left years ago, and the two remaining were secure and happy in their places in the church. Both my parent had passed away a few years back, and I would often talk to them in spirit, letting them know what I was doing. It always felt OK with them.

Nevertheless I didn’t know for sure how my parents felt… until the next day: January 1, 2009.

The first day of the year was spent enjoying the company of our new friends in New York, the adopted family of our son. These people came from all over the world; some gay, most straight, but to-a-man all amazing people in their own right. They had come to NY to fulfill their dreams of playing on Broadway, becoming a fashion model, attending the world-class universities in the city, working on Wall Street or just finding a place where they could fit in. Both my wife and I were so touched by the level of love and acceptance shown to us by all. We knew then that our son would always be in good hands.

After another Broadway show the night, we were leaving the Theatre District to return to our apartment by subway. (Never thought I’d feel safe late at night on a New York subway – TV and the media really do know how to sensationalize fear unnecessarily.) As we walked to the platform, I could hear an eerie sound, like a violin but somehow different. I sought it out, as I always do when I hear live music in the city. I relish the opportunity to support street musicians and pay my respects with a dollar to help them keep their dreams alive.

Sitting on a small stool in the middle of the platform was an old man playing a two stringed Chinese instrument called an erhu with a bow. I’d seen photos of this unique looking instrument, but I had never heard one played in person. And coming from a background in music, as well as being a return missionary from Japan, I was quite intrigued by this Asian-looking musician. He had to be at least 65 or 70 years old, and there he was playing for money in a New York subway after midnight. Not exactly the kind of thing a kid from Utah expects to see.

It sounded as if he was playing traditional Chinese folk songs; his eyes were closed as if he was lost in the beauty of the pentatonic melody. Most people were ignoring him. As I stood there enjoying this experience, he opened his eyes and nodded slightly toward me, as if to say Thank you for noticing. I nodded back and opened my wallet to pay him my token one dollar offering. Noticeably startled that I didn’t have any one dollar bills left, I sheepishly backed away.

My wife asked me if I paid him, and I explained that I didn’t have any “ones.” In her normal intuitive-self, she said, “I’m sure he would appreciate a twenty.” I halted my stride and remarked, “You’re right. He would!” So I turned around and went back to deliver a $20 bill. What happened next will stay with me forever.

When I went back the old man was still playing old Chinese tunes, very unrecognizable to me, and it appeared that his eyes were still shut. But when I dropped the money in his case on the floor, he looked down at it and then up at me. He nodded once again as if to say Thank You. But then he stopped playing for a moment and looked directly at me. When he began to play again, ODE TO JOY by Beethoven was the melody coming from that funny instrument. I stood there memorized for about 10 seconds when again he stopped, looked up at me, nodded and started playing RED RIVER VALLEY. After about 10 seconds or so, he stopped, nodded once more, and began playing traditional Chinese music once again - with his eyes closed. It took me a few minutes to compose me self, and in fact my wife came over to see if I was alright. I wondered out loud, “What Just Happened?”

Because she was standing 10 or 15 yards away, she couldn’t hear what the man had played. But she could sense something was wrong by my expression of bewilderment. I quickly shared what had just transpired; then I told her, “Mom and Dad are somehow connected to that old man.” My thoughts were spinning; were they reincarnated, did they just enter his body for a brief moment, were they present in spirit and whispering to the man what to play? I couldn’t believe what had just happened!

My dad was a musician, scholar, and artist from Boston who loved all kinds of music. His favorite composer of all time was Beethoven, and I have always identified him with my father. Unfortunately, I was never really keen on classical music, so I never learn much about Beethoven, except I did know two of his compositions; his famous FIFTH SYPHONY and ODE TO JOY.

My mom on the other hand was a cowgirl from Wyoming; my parents met at BYU. She was also an amazing artist, but lack in musical abilities. Still she always tried to include music in our lives growing up. She would sometimes sing cowboy songs at night, and the one I remember most vividly is, you guessed it, RED RIVER VALLEY. She used to tell us that our pioneer ancestors came from the Red River Valley.

Now, imagine my surprise and delight in hearing the two songs that I identify most with my parents, played by an old Chinese man, in a New York subway, after midnight on January 1, 2009. Seems pretty natural, right? WRONG!!! Something was definitely going on, and after giving it some thought, I came to the conclusion that my departed mother and father had made themselves known and had share their complete support for the actions I (we) had taken. It was clear to me that I had no reason to worry about them. I had received confirmation of their love and acceptance from the other side.

Even though I marvel at the thought of this experience, for years I wondered why it happened the way it did. I even considered seeing a Medium to ask my parents why all the theatrics. Then a few years later when I was giving a performance lecture on Jazz & Spirituality with my band, I had an epiphany that answered my question. It became very clear why they chose to reach out the way did; because it was the most “improbable” way to do it.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had a dream where my parents came to me and told me they were cool with things. Would I remember it? Would I believe it was real? I might not. In fact I would probably dismiss it as too much pizza before bedtime. And I doubt I would have accepted hearing from another person that they had a dream or a vision where my parents visited them. So, how could I have received my parent’s message and know beyond a shadow of a doubt (why do all Mormons use that phrase when baring testimonies?!?) that it was actually from them? The way it did happen; through music, in the most unlikely of places, by a person I didn’t know, and shared through music-speak, not words.

This was life changing for me, my wife and my family. But there is one more important lesson I learned from this experience. Imagine if I had told my wife, “I can’t afford to give him $20.” Our lives would have continued on, but I would have never known the pleasure of realizing my parents are still with me and my family on our new journey. It would have been an outright shame if I had decided that $20 was too much to give another person.

Lesson Learned!

Why do we sometimes restrict blessings that are surely coming our way by choosing to shut off the flow by not sharing what we already have? I believe it’s because we are choosing fear over love. Fear of loss. Not trusting the Universe. Believing in Scarcity. Fear and Love are the two motivators for EVERY decision we face on a daily basis. Are we approaching our life decisions from a place of love or fear? I know that coming from a place of love is ALWAYS the right choice.

Remember, More Love is Always the Answer… ALWAYS!

In the name of Jesus … oops!

Sorry, force of habit!