24 NOTES
I have mentioned in the past how I "sit" on articles and let them ruminate until they find their way to the light of day - or front of mind. This article has been in my mental queue for about 8 weeks - but it took last week's unexpected travel plans to bring it full circle, and to your inbox. I hope you enjoy
This will be the February free edition of my e-zine
Last week, a last-minute work trip to Maryland popped up. The closest flight had me landing in Washington, D.C. at 4:00 p.m. Not wanting to fight rush hour, I decided to spend some time in the area before heading north.
I have been lucky enough to visit our nation's capital for work and pleasure, alone and with family, many times. I have checked off all the "must-see" items, and it was unlikely I would find anything new in such a short visit.
This would likely be a "re-visit" for me. What should I do? A quick Google inquiry led me to my answer.
The final Changing of the Guards Ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier was at 5:00. I was not to be denied.
If you've never been, it's hard to describe, not just the Ceremony, but the setting - Arlington National Cemetery. Hundreds and hundreds of acres of stark white headstones, all in perfect alignment, standing at attention, performing a silent roll-call from wars gone by.
That is, except for the call of a single bugle - singing TAPS.
"Taps" is not an acronym but a 24-note bugle call originating from the Civil War (1862) to signal "lights out" and the end of day. Since 2012, it has served as the official solemn tune for U.S. military funerals to honor the fallen. It signifies a final farewell, peace, and rest, and is required by law for the final services of all service members.
It's hard to imagine twenty-four notes that carry more weight, meaning, and honor, and virtually any adult American would recognize it in its first three notes.
Its power doesn't come from complexity or technical virtuosity. It comes from context. Those notes mark loss, gratitude, honor, and finality. They prove something music educators sometimes struggle to articulate to our students: that meaning is not proportional to difficulty.
But those sounds are being silenced.
A recent article in the New York Times, titled "The Volunteer Buglers Giving 24-Note Salutes," states that a lack of trained military musicians has led the military to use embedded speakers in bugles, enabling anyone to stand there and pretend during this final goodbye.
Pretend.
But the article also highlights a growing group of volunteer buglers — civilians, veterans, retirees, and teenagers — who travel around the U.S. to play the bugle call Taps at military funerals and veterans' ceremonies. Yes, teenagers from high school music groups, paying tribute to the fallen.
As our country struggles with its identity and associated priorities, music programs are producing what our country can't - teenagers who are selfless, responsible, and caring.
For me, that is the very definition of patriotism. No glory, no recognition, and no fanfare - except for the fanfare that celebrates someone else.
In an era when music programs are often asked to justify their value, people forget that the meaning of music extends far beyond the time and place of the actual class and extends deep into people's lives and our communities. Music teaches our students about meaning, how to show up with intention, and how to honor moments without words.
These twenty-four-notes carry weight because of what they represents. Music is never abstract to the creator. It is tied to memory, place, and emotion. Whether it's a single pitch played alone or a whole ensemble chord, the note becomes something more once it leaves the instrument.
As music educators, we understand that we are not just teaching accuracy; we are teaching responsibility. We are not learning rhythms; we are teaching discipline and attention to detail. And, we're teaching balance and blend, not just in our ensembles, but in our lives.
Twenty-four notes remind us that music's power has never been about quantity. It has always been about purpose. And every time a student lifts an instrument or opens their mouth to sing, they are learning — whether we say it aloud or not — that what they play matters.
Now, more than ever, music matters. Now more than ever YOU matter.
And I'm not pretending.
Have a great week, all - stay warm.
Scott