Goodbye, Melbourne Town Band

Melbourne Town Band photo before the St. George's Day concert

It was supposed to be just a concert.  I think it was also supposed to be just a small gift.  It turned out to be a goodbye that struck a chord.

I have learned from my years as a Third Culture Kid, and also from this secondment in the UK, that it's almost always easier to be the one leaving than the one staying.  I've also learned that it's easier to say "I'm leaving.  Goodbye" than to have someone else say "You're leaving.  Goodbye."  Like climbing onto the airplane instead of watching someone go through security, it keeps the focus on the adventure ahead rather than on what is being lost with the departure.

I knew all of this conceptually as I approached the St. George's Day concert with the Melbourne Town Band.  It may not be the absolute last concert (there is one more the weekend before we pack our house in June), but it is the last "big one" that involves heavy preparation and the sense of accomplishment that comes from being part of a job well-done.  In the couple of weeks preceding it, and as I walked down to the Royal British Legion for the concert on April 22, I reflected with gratefulness for my time with the band.  Brass instruments are tough to play recreationally without a group to play with (and a venue where you can play without others - say sleeping children - being disturbed).  It was an unexpected perk of the secondment, once we knew we would live in Melbourne, when I discovered the band and realised I'd have a chance to dust the cobwebs off my trombone.  I will miss this group, who welcomed me despite my inability to share their love for Pedigree Ale.

I processed all of this through the "I'm leaving" lens.  Part way through the concert, Brendan, the director, paused to say "We have a goodbye to say to someone who, when he joined us, we always knew would leave.  Shawn, please come forward.  Thank you for playing bass trombone with us for the last two years.  Your time has not been wasted.  We have a small gift to give you."  The statement changed my mindset to the "You're leaving" lens.  That hurt a lot more.  The emotions rose in my chest as I walked forward to receive the gift, and I had a little trouble concentrating on my music during the remaining songs.  On the positive side, that means any mistakes I made during those songs were all Brendan's fault.

The gift was a farewell card signed by folks in the band, and a set of 5 mug coasters with the MTB logo.  Karen Worrall, one of the principle cornet players, and also a glass artist who owns KJ Designs, made the coasters.  Normally she makes coasters in sets of 4.  5 was someone being considerate to make sure there was one for each person in our family.

We consume large quantities of hot drinks in our home (such comes when a TCK from Africa marries someone who believes coffee is its own food group), but we own relatively few coasters.  The ones we own all have special memories.  I bought a soapstone set with animals etched on the surface during my final trip to Nairobi.  My brother and sister-in-law gave us a set from Brazil.  This set will join those ones - providing visible memories of our time in the UK, and of my time with the MTB.