The first time I heard the music, or Canon in D

I was in the fifth grade. Marshdale elementry school in Bergin county deep in the Colorado rockies the first time that I understood how music can move the soul.

That should come to quite a shock to some of my readers, well... Mom and Dad mostly. I was raised by two cool hippies that were in rock bands and came from musical families. That is to say, since birth I was constantly surrounded by music. And it instilled in me an appreciation for the craft of making music and truly mastering an instrument.

So, why should I not be moved so deeply by music until well into my 10th year? I'm not sure if I can answer that question. All I can do is tell you what happened, and where I was. And maybe you can tell me.

I was ten years old in the special education program that moved from school to school every year. Third grade was Wilmont Elementary, I don't remember where fourth grade was, but Fifth grade I remember vividly. You will read more stories from fifth grade later.

Marshdale Elementry School was a stark building made mostly of cement and glass that stood like a discarded box among the surrounding mountains and forrests. There were only two other things of interest on the street that are worth note, the school bus terminal on the left hand side right before you got to the school building and a large field on the right side of the street that was home to a herd of about a hundred or so American Buffalo.

I remember many of my childhood classrooms vividly, this one had a large box in the back corner opposite the door. On the side of this large box, there was a door. This was a time-out room. Padded walls and floor. Practically sound proof. And much to the dismay of my teachers, one of my favorite places. I can remember playing many games by myself in that room. I even like to think it helped me develop my imagination.

Like a lot of special education classrooms, there was no one consistent theme in the room. There was the typical math art of times tables and short division, but you could also find the other two "R"s. As well as arts and crafts, balls and jump ropes... like most schools the special ed class rolled all the general education into one classroom. So you had maybe two teachers to teach you all the subjects. While the "normal" kids went from classroom to classroom. When I got to junior high the idea of home rooms was completely foreign to me.

There was one other thing in that room, and it is that item that first moved my soul with music. In a cubical on the side of the room next to the arts and crafts, sat a small white tapedeck and a pair of earphones. There were only five or six tapes to choose from, but I can only ever remember listening to one. Song one, side A: Pachabel's Canon in D.

My experience of music consisted of music made by bands of drummers (my dad), guitarists, bass players, lead singers, and stellar back up guitarist and singer (my mom). And while we listened to a lot of different music through my youth, somehow classical never really caught on... well with two exceptions. This one, and when my brother and I caught chicken pox we rented, and watched a hundred times, the movie Amadeus.

Every day when the teachers would allow us free time, I would rush right over to that little tape deck and stick the tape in and press play... I can remember gripping the earphones and holding them as close as I could to my head so I could hear all those low notes in the beginning...

And then that violin comes in with that string of notes, which is just a quite simple progression up the scale... But something about it strikes hope into me. And I listen to the swells and crescendos. I can remember holding my breath. The tightening of the brow muscles during the high notes. The way it seems without a word to emote feeling. It felt like being injected through the ear with pure joy.

I would sit there with my hands cupped around my ears and while my teachers watched with a curious fascination, I would disappear into another world. There was nothing but the sound. The perfect sounds, and all those different instruments... At the time I was still very ignorant about orchestra's and I couldn't fathom how someone had managed to make something so perfect sounding. The song would end, my eyes would open, the rewind button was pressed and then I would listen again. Then again.

That was the moment. I cant pinpoint any one day specifically. I cant tell you why it drew me day after day. There was something magic in the intricacies and the blend of all the different notes and sounds and instruments. And the way they played with volume... That series of moments with that one song has stuck with me through the rest of my life. When I think of my favorite songs, I always pick musicians that have mastered their instruments. And singers who can write lyrics that move me or speak to me in some way.

If I was ever asked to name the most perfect song ever written, I would say this one. Not because of it's association to weddings, or any ties that it has to modern pop culture. I would pick this song because when it is played there is the same reaction in every listener. Beauty, symmetry, unison, happiness, peace. We all feel the catch in our breath at moments, and the way our heads lilt ever so slightly upward as if these notes could only be made by angels.

The epiphany I had when I was ten years old clutching the earphones to my head was this: It is possible with music to inspire, and create joy and happiness without ever saying a word.