When I was in high school I had a band teacher that I thought played favorites (and I wasn’t one of them). I was trying to be drum major of the marching band and he was the one who decided whether it would be me or someone else. I went on a trip to europe with my family to try and get my brother a spot on the manchester united youth team the week before the drum major tryout so I showed up to school the day after coming back completely unprepared. A majority of my classmates still voted for me but that band teacher brought me into his office and tore me apart, basically telling me I didn’t have what it takes for the job. I cursed him from that day forward. I told myself one day I would be his boss and he would regret his decision to keep me from my rightful place as drum major. But then the year went by, I graduated high school, graduated college, and never really acted on that thought, it just sorta sat there, stored in the recesses of my mind, drifting away with time. Until, one day I get a message from my high school classmate asking if I’m available to come to my band teacher’s funeral. He had stage 4 stomach cancer and I never knew until I heard about his funeral. Naturally my last thought about him was the first to surface—“one day I’m going to be your boss”… it felt so superfluous in the face of death and the final calculation. Like climbing some heirarchy and being “succesful” would make him regret his decision all those years ago and afford me the power over him to right some wrong of the past. When in reality, he had taught me a lot, he truly cared about his 100s and 100s of students over the years, and he was completely right to not let me—an unprepared, entitled kid—have the drum major position. But instead of seeing and allowing myself to benefit from any of those things, for years I was blinded and held back by vindication and revenge. It made me realize I didn’t want to live the rest of my life like that—it’s just not worth it in the end. So thank you, Mr. V, for teaching me even after you’re gone. May you rest in peace, and may your french horn ring through the heavens!