Richard Hoffman, Coe College Music Professor - A tribute

I remember when I arrived at Coe. I was all about music. I wanted to be a music teacher. I wanted to perform on Broadway. I wanted to sing my way through life. Until I took theory. And then I realized that theory is much like math. And I'm not good at them. And, to quote a little Lord of the Rings, "me hatesssss it."

I also realized that there's Coe College and then there's the Coe College Conservatory of Music. It's a secret little part of the college and, since I don't like secrets, it cemented for me that I wasn't going to make music my life. Except for now. Which I do. Which he knew.

I auditioned late for music scholarship and, because of that, didn't get any money for voice my first year. But I met a very quirky man in the hallway that day. "My GAWD," he gasped at me. "That was amazing. Where did you learn to sing like that?" And he wandered off. "Lovely," I thought. "There are weirdos at this school." It wasn't that he WAS weird....he was just so dramatic and so big and so Hoff!

Imagine my surprise to find out that that "weirdo" was actually a very talented, very tempermental, amazing director at the college named Richard Hoffman. And for the next four years and beyond, my life would intertwine with his.

I had to drop out of Collage, Coe's now extinct show choir/small group performance when I was a sophomore because of knee surgery. (And yes, it was like Glee, complete with all the talent, all the divas, all the drama, and all the fun.) I hadn't auditioned my freshman year because I was too terrified. I screwed up my courage my junior year and auditioned again. And thus began a two year journey of being screamed at, being terrified, being challenged, being beyond exhausted, having my feet ache, and feeling as though every bone in my body was smashed. And thus began my journey of being encouraged, still being challenged, learning to tap dance because I was thrown in the front row, becoming a pro at winging it (remember Matt Clark?), belonging to part of an amazing group of people, seeing the south in style, and being nuked when the lights first came on at Disney.

But I digress. That's another story entirely.

Richard Hoffman lived and breathed Collage. And he expected his performers to do the same. And sometimes we didn't. And when we didn't,ooooooo, child. Watch out! But for as many times as I thought Hoff was a bully, there were as many times when I was proven wrong.

Richard Hoffman died yesterday.

The man was so complicated. One minute I hated him, the next I adored him.

I remember when he took my friend Jen and I aside prior to a performance and handed us each 2 bandaids. "Go put them on the girls," he said. "I know sex sells but this is a g rated show." And we went and put bandaids on our nipples. What kind of person would have someone do that? Hoff. And why would we do that? Because it was Hoff. And it was a g rated show.

I can't forget Hoffography which consisted of weird jazz hands and "doing your own thing." I can't forget when he would greet us. "Hellllloooooo Chickens!" I still use this.

I can't forget when he would yell out "FREEDANCE". Yes, Hoff will be missed. That strange little man who I met so many years ago - my own little garden gnome. For every time I wanted to slap him, there were double the times I wanted to hug him.

He showed how hard work and passion can overcome anything and how a family isn't just your blood relatives - it's truly about those you love and support you - who grow with you through every blister, song, and bump in the road.

I hope everyone up above is ready for Hoff. Let the freedance begin.

Rise Above

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Used by Nelson Mandela in his 1994 inaugural speech

Dear Harper and Zane,

There's been a lot in the news lately about what can happen when kids are mean to other kids. Some people will want to make it into something huge and then try to disect every aspect of it, from the cruelness of society to the abuse of the internet and technology. And I will agree with them on certain points. But the bottom line is much simpler: People can be mean. People think it's okay to make fun of others who are different than them. And it's not okay.

See, some of these kids have been picked on for being different. For example, a boy might like a boy. Or a girl might like a girl. Some kids have been picked on because someone is jealous. Some kids have been picked on just because. And again, I say, people can be mean.

But you don't have to be.

Harper, you have an amazing gift. You understand what it is like to be a little different than everyone else and, because of that, you go out of your way to be kind to people. I am so proud of you. And I hope you never lose sight of that gift or that amazing part of yourself.

Zane, you understand what it is like to have someone in your life that people might consider different. And you have the gift of loving everyone equally and accepting others....just like your sister does. Never lose that gift.

God is love. God created everyone with special talents and likes and dislikes and abilities. God doesn't make mistakes. Love those in your life with all your heart. Treat them with kindness and compassion. Defend those who others take pride in persecuting. You may be their only friend. You may be the one who makes a difference. You have that ability.

Life is an amazing gift that you have been given. You are amazing gifts that I have been given and it would break my heart if one day you decided to throw away the gift that is you because someone was being cruel. So I tell you this:

Never give up.
Never give up.
Never surrender to the cruelty of others.
Never give up.

NEVER EVER think there isn't something you can tell me or dad. Because we love you, unconditionally, for all the time. NEVER EVER think that life isn't worth living, because it is. NEVER EVER forget that we are always here to support you, guide you, listen to you. Because, again, we LOVE YOU. Every part of you from the freckles on your noses to the hairs on your head to the feet that keep growing and growing and growing. Every part. Inside. Outside. You are beautifully and wonderfully and awesomely made.

You are surrounded by people who love you, who you can always talk to. Do so. Encourage others to do so. They are loved as well and deserve the chance to know how truly wonderful life is and will be.

Treat others with gentleness, because you might have someone who looks big and strong on the outside with a scared heart on the inside. You are never to small or to young to make a difference. Treat everyone with the love and respect that you desire and it will come back to you....maybe not right away, and maybe you will never know the difference it made, but know that you will have made a difference.

You don't know who the Beatles were, but I hope that someday you do. In the meantime, know that one of them said something incredibly important:

Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

You are my sun, my moon, my stars, my world.

All my love,
Mom

Volleyball to the side of the head

Harper played volleyball yesterday. She's the smallest on the team. She has, in my non biased mom opinion, the most drive on the team. She wills her team to win. She challenges herself to do better. She wants to serve the ball over the net. And when she does, she does a funny little dance that makes my heart sing.

About two weeks ago, she did just that and the crowd errupted in cheers. See, us moms and dads and grandparents know who has gotten the ball over by now and, when someone who hasn't done so in the past finally makes it....well, we let them hear it. However, since that time, most of her serves haven't made it over. They've made it to the side of the court. They've made it to the people in the crowd. They've almost taken out the ref. And they have bounced back harmlessly from the net.

Friday, something short of a miracle happened. Not only did she serve it over the net, but it was an ace AND it was the winning point of the game. Oh yeah, it was a good night for her.

Today, the JV played 2 separate games, 3 games each. The coaches do a good job of mixing up stronger players with those who are still learning. Harper is 49 pounds, with little matchstick arms and long colt legs. It was Christmas in July again because Harper not only served over the net....she did it twice in a row and scored points.

During one game she got whacked in the side of the head with the ball. Her coaches wanted to know if she wanted them to take her out but she said no. She wanted to finish. So, blinking back tears, she carried on while I sat, stranded, on the side of the court. After the game, Coach Franck gave her a hug and she collapsed in tears. A good friend went and checked on her and her coach brought her back from the bathroom where she had fled out of embarrassment. Sitting next to one of her coaches, she looked so tiny and vulnerable. She made me want to hobble across the court and scoop her up, even though she is ten years old. And yet she saw me watching her and waved at me with a smile, ready to go.

Now the coaches that we have for our team are great people, the epitome of what you want in a coach. Harper has learned a lot from them. But in cases like this, where Ms. Tiny But Mighty keeps going, even with a ball to the side of the head, I think she's the teacher. She shows that it doesn't matter WHEN you play but THAT you play. It doesn't matter if you weigh 110 pounds or 49. What matters is that you make the most out of every second of every game, of every day, of every life. And when life boots you in the head, you cry, but you keep going. There are always going to be balls hurled in your direction. It's the ability to serve them right back that counts.

A Lazy Dazy Afternoon

Ahhh, the midwest. I don't think I could ever live somewhere that doesn't have the season changes. Today is no exception. It's gray and it's chilly and I love it. Tomorrow it will be 80 and sunny. Where else can you have such extremes? I'm on day 7 of my surgery recovery and this laying in bed with the foot elevated thing is getting realllly old. My nationality consists of Norweigan and German. Translation - laid back but extremely stubborn. I WANT to be up. I WANT to be doing things. I do NOT want to be laying in bed, feeling the lovely brownie that I had with lunch settling on to my hips. Though, on the flip side, it IS rather nice to have the children and hubby catering to me. No, no........What am I saying? I think every mom has a daydream that entails being waited on UNTIL it actually happens. This is how my past days have gone:

Hear large crash

Me: What was that?

Daughter: What?

Me: I SAID what was that?

Daughter: I can't hear you. What?

Me: WHAT WAS THAT?

Son: Why are you yelling?

Me: Huh? Because your sister said you can't hear me. What was that crash?

Son: Oh. I don't know. I will go check.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

Me: Hello? Hello?

No answer. Imagination left to run wild. I have to say that recovering is not as relaxing as one would hope.