A Masterful Teacher

I have had many questions lately. You can probably see that in my writing this summer. This week, I find myself asking about the teachers in our lives who live on through their students, colleagues and those who privately observed them.

My reflection runs deep. Returning from my brother-in-law’s Celebration of Life services in Virginia, I find myself changed by the impact of Mr. Marlon Foster’s life on my life and so many others’. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people joined alongside the extended Foster family to honor this incredible man in person and online. The words shared by countless people rang true to me about this humble Air Force Band member, honored middle school band director, private percussion teacher, and college musician. His wife, my sister, Cheryl, must also be given credit for unselfishly sharing him with us throughout their forty-one years of marriage. Marlon was a teacher called to a higher level, and he brought as many students as possible with him on his journey through good times and challenging ones. He was “the man,” as he would often call others.

As you continue reading, you will find my husband’s perspective on his “brother-from-another-mother.” From my viewpoint, however, when an entire community: students, teachers, mentors and church members stand to honor a man for his impact on their lives, you must take notice. You must also reflect on your own life and the impact you are truly making on the current and future generations in your sphere of influence.

Marlon touched every person he met … and they were changed as a result. He changed my life through our conversations over being private music teachers and the beautiful joys we shared in our students’ musical journeys. Even though we did not teach the same instrument, he made me want to be a better teacher. He gave me a deeper love for my chosen profession. He showed me the power of music from a different instrumentalist’s perspective over meals and coffee in Virginia, Maine and when he and Cheryl visited us in Texas. I never mastered, or even got close to mastering, the rhythm lessons he demonstrated for me, but I knew he was proud of me for trying. He made everyone feel that way.

I cherished his extensive knowledge and willingness to unselfishly impart new ideas into my spirit. Knowing how much I loved his wife, it made it very easy for us to walk as close family and friends. He was a man whose love of music was born out of his love for God. Last summer, he especially challenged me in deep conversations about walking lovingly and truthfully with family while my siblings and I finalized my father’s estate. He listened to my brokenness and saw my grieving heart. I will never forget his distinctive laughter; his persistence in calling for authenticity; his contentment while sitting alone; and his willingness to share Cheryl with me over the years.  

I feel like I was just getting to know Marlon in new and deeper ways after Chris and I enjoyed prolonged amounts of time with him within the last year. He will truly, truly, truly be missed in our lives.

My Chris shares his heart …

Yes, my brother-in-law was a professional musician and educator. I was thinking about him and the musicians who play together often, always hoping for that moment of coalescence, where everyone is in the pocket — that groove where everyone knows that this is what they were meant to do and meant to be — that place where it all comes together at a moment of ecstasy that speaks to a fraction of God’s joy at the creation of the world. So much of our lives are affected by people who promote “schlock” as true and pure, all the while knowing that it is counterfeit and base. This man’s entire life was lived to give all of us an example of a life fully lived in grace and truth.

In F1: The Movie, Brad Pitt’s character, Sonny Hayes, says he races over and over again just trying to reach that one place where it all comes together — where instead of driving, he feels like he’s flying. I think of artists like Monet and his water lilies; how he painted them over and over and over again, knowing that what he painted was similar, was a good counterfeit, but ultimately couldn’t capture the beauty of what he saw. He was driven over and over at that point in his career to find a way to represent that ineffable quality that he wanted everyone else to see.

Marlon was like that. He loved jazz. He loved music and even more, he loved people. During his last trip to Texas earlier this summer, we went to a music store to just look around and check out some drums and cymbals. I watched as he walked by the trap sets, tapped a cymbal or touched a drum head. After a while, he decided he wanted a wood block. He told me he purchased a wood block in the last year, and it was just awful.

Now, I’m not a connoisseur. A wood block is a wood block to me, but I watched as he took several woodblocks and tapped them with different mallets. Once satisfied, he brought a block forward to the owner of the shop. Immediately, Marlon started a conversation talking about gigs, trips to the cymbal factories, and similar stories about their past tours and band interactions. Marlon’s gift was always trying to make that connection, to find that groove with anyone he met. I know he didn’t find that perfect sound that day, but he found one that was close enough for what he needed. It had enough of the quality to carry the tone he wanted. And he found just the right tone to connect with that shop owner.

Three weeks later he passed away.

Real artists, and I’ll dare to say, mature disciples of Christ, try to transmit that sense of beauty that lies just beyond our comprehension. They are just trying to interpret God‘s beauty in some way so the rest of us can get just a slight taste of what they feel and see. They are trying to help us find that moment of flying, that second of where the world and the universe come together.

That was Marlon. He loved that. He loved teaching. My daughter, Jessica, said he had the gift of delight. He loved holding to that, trying to transfer that delight to his students. He saw the world both as it is and what it could be and was so disappointed in us for being satisfied with the pitiful state we have left it in. But he knew that if he could just get us to see it the way it was meant to be, and to see who we were meant to be, it would make the difference. We met so many people for whom he had made that difference. There were so many stories of careers encouraged, families strengthened, and lives changed. 

I left Marlon’s funeral services feeling the same way — encouraged, strengthened, and changed. Marlon’s legacy remains. The seeds he planted continue to grow and bear fruit. And I, and many others, are so much better because of him. 

Thank you, Marlon, for inviting us into your wonderful world of mentoring and caring for others no matter the costs.

Listening Library: “What a Wonderful World”  

https://youtu.be/A3yCcXgbKrE?osi=JOjrCH41bIfAIu8V

What a Wonderful World

I see trees of green, red roses too.

I see them bloom for me and for you.

And I think to myself

What a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue and clouds of white.

The bright blessed days, dark sacred nights.

And I think to myself

What a wonderful world.

The colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky.

Are also on the faces of people going by.

I see friends shaking hands, saying, "How do you do?"

They′re really sayin', "I love you."

I hear babies cry, I watch them grow.

They′ll learn much more than I'll never know.

And I think to myself

What a wonderful world.

Yes, I think to myself

What a wonderful world.

Oh, yeah.

Written by George David Weiss and Bob Thiele

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