I just got back yesterday, from 18 days on the Grand Canyon. It’s nearly impossible to put into words a trip like that. When people ask, I either sound too nonchalant, or I attempt to provide examples of the trip but end up making us sound like a bunch of clowns. We created a great team- 16 people with an average age of 28- and we survived dangers and setbacks both aquatic and terrestrial, natural and social.  As the river finally swept us out of the canyon onto the open plain, we embraced as a cohesive unit, bonded by struggle and triumph.  It’s a special place, and we are all so lucky.

Make it Feel Like My Heart

A while back, I was winding down a weekday evening, chatting with my roommates and lounging post-shower in my robe, when the door burst open and my friend Cristen came in.  Our house, as you know, is centrally located downtown, and we have an open door policy.  That being said, my eyelids were already drooping and sleep was calling my name.

"Roddy, you have to come down the road!" urged Cristen.  "Bring a drum, tambourine, and definitely bring the violin."

I wavered, but the excitement in her voice beckoned me out, and soon i was walking down the street in my robe, arms full of instruments.

At our friends' house, music was already being played inside.  Guitar, harmonica, a female voice singing.  We stepped inside a cozy living room filled with instruments and paintings. I already knew Peter and Anna, and I was introduced to Daniel who, according to Cristin, played violin.  

From there we chatted a bit, poured some wine, and soon we were jamming around some of Anna's folk songs.  Daniel tuned the violin and started playing lightly.  But not timidly.  Each of his notes found unique places inside the music- something about his additions seemed otherworldly, oddly perfect.  The music drew us deeper and further than an average jam session, and before we knew it we had left Anna's song and were headed into the further realms of rhythm and melody.  My percussion instruments seemed empty for me, so I started adding vocals, simple, repetitive, riffing inside the music.  Daniel would answer me with his strings. Inside the music, we spoke to each other in melody, my vocal chords vibrating in harmony with his violin.  I felt drunk on the music, filled with vigor and lost in the waves of it all. I've never felt so wrapped in music, swaddled in sound.

When we finally finished, there was no way to know how much time had passed.  I couldn't stop smiling.  Daniel was calm, complimentary, amiable. I told him he was great, said that we should jam more often, asked him if he had just moved to town.  He said no, and everybody laughed.  This guy was actually a big deal professional musician, and everybody in the room knew that. He travels playing violin for a living, just recently played with Lady GaGa on American Idol, etc. I Googled him later and was pretty astounded.

The next day I was subbing for Mr. Cooper's Chemistry class at the High School.  I arrived at 8am, ready to teach atomic theory or acid-base reactions, but I was informed that today was a half-day field trip to "Strings," which is Steamboat's big fancy music pavilion.  "Awesome!" I replied. "Who is playing?"

"Some incredible violinist, who apparently can make his violin sound like a drum machine, or a flute, or an electric guitar. I heard he's amazing."

I smiled. "I heard that too."

So we loaded in buses and crossed town to the Strings Pavilion.  Buses we arriving from the Middle and Elementary Schools also, and soon the seats were all filled, with teachers standing in the back.  I chatted with students, walked over to the Middle School section and found my U-12 soccer players, many of whom were wearing their warm-up tops.  I found my friend Cristin, who works at Strings, and we squealed over the awesome coincidence of the day. 

When Daniel took the stage, he instantly connected with the kids, just like he had connected with me the night before.  "I didn't choose the violin, it chose me," he told them.  "But I didn't want it to sound like a violin. I wanted it to sound like a bass."  And with that, he dropped into a funky bassline, plucking hard at the strings with his fingers. "I wanted it to sound like a snare," he said, and he began slapping the strings with the bow, making a hip-hop beat.

At some time during the presentation, Daniel looked out into the crowd and his eyes met mine.  I was sitting near the back, but I was grooving to the music and he saw me. Then, what happened what just like the magic of the nighttime jam session.  He announced that he was going to bring someone to the stage, and that it was "someone with beautiful red hair and energy to fill the room."  I paused, but he pointed out at me and suddenly all the kids were pushing me out of my chair, cheering. 

As I came onto the stage, Daniel said to me, "Grab the mic. Let's do what we did before."

Do what we did before?!? At night we had guitar, harmonica, and the initial framework of Anna's songs! Plus, I was in the comfort of my neighborhood and my robe.  Now I'm on stage in front of a thousand people, and all we have is a violin and a microphone!  My knees were shaking, and I hoped they wouldn't buckle.  I looked at Daniel. He laid down a phat beat, slamming the bow down:

R-r-r-rap da-dap, da-dap dap dap. R-r-r-rap da dap dap....

Not knowing what else to do, I started talking, rapping, starting to rhyme, giving shout outs to my soccer kids and my chemistry students, admitting my nervousness, my fear, talking about facing fear and giving it a go, giving my all. And as i spoke, the kids sat forward in their seats. When I asked if it was ok to be scared they responded "Yes!"  When I asked if I was doing alright they yelled "Yes!"  So I started beatboxing, a vocal percussion to match Daniel's. 

Pum pum ka, pum pum ka.  Pum-padum ka, pa-dum pa-dum ka. 

And Daniel lit up on the strings, taking the jam to the next dimension.  He rose and rose, riffing, tearing, and the kids clapped with me.  The energy in the room building, I finally found my singing voice, and started a mantra "Make it feel like my heart, make it feel like my soul."  I repeated the mantra over and over, finding a melody with Daniel's violin, until we crescendoed in a huge bout of music, the kids setting a rhythm with their claps. 

Then it was just cheering, smiles, hugs. I thanked Daniel, and stepped off the stage. All the kids wanted to give me high fives.  I couldn't sit down, so I stood by the back doors, my whole body tingling. 

Thanks Coach.

Find the rhythm. -Eric Skinner, SSWSC Freestyle

Move with a purpose. -Kelly Meek, SSHS Basketball

Find our shape, find our rhythm, boom, boom, boom. -Rob Bohlmann, SSHS Soccer, SFC

Last night, in a full-to-capacity Grand ballroom, the lights dimmed for the first performance of Steamboat's Dancing with the Stars. A young man who was raised as a skier, soccer player, and basketballer took the stage, introduced by the emcee as "the preeminent male dancer in Steamboat Springs." He carried a djembe drum acquired on a trip to Ghana, and struck up a rhythm, inciting the crowd to join. He may have looked like a musician, but the rhythm he was leading was learned not in a music studio, but on the mogul courses of the Steamboat Springs Winter Sports Club. His body absorbing the moguls one by one, sending booms into the air, leading the audience to clap and cheer.

His partner joined him on stage, brown skin and a sleek red dress, and the dance quickly became a Salsa, full of spins and chopping footwork. The dancer, in his mind, was back on a basketball court, doing defensive drills for Coach Kelly Meek. "Point your toe," Meek demanded. "Slide, slide, slide. Crossover footwork, spin, slide. Point your toe." The red dress fluttered and flew across the stage.

The song, from Paul Simon's album Graceland, blended an African choral arrangement with Simon's distinctive Americanisms. On the stage, West African agbaja movement blended with a Latin flavor, el movimiento latino. In his mind, the dancer was coursing across a perfectly mowed Dudley field, forming angles with his teammates, overlapping, giving and going, creating and recreating options for passes. The ball seemed to float, hover, dance. As the song came to a crescendo and the dancers finished with a flourished dip, the crowd exploded in a standing ovation. In the cheers he could hear Coach Bohlmann say, "Well done Gentlemen."

The relationship between sport and dance is sometimes acknowledged, but under appreciated. Last night, there was a complete convergence of the two. Sport became dance, and movement was celebrated for movement's sake. Coaches Adams, Drake, Moos, DeWolfe, and Beall were on hand, and Coach Drake poignantly declared, "We need all of our young athletes to be training in dance." At that very moment, a group of young hockey players, who had been working the coat check, were spinning and jumping on the dance floor. Way to go lads!