There were a lot of excited musicians gathered at the RDU International Airport on July 31, 2008. It was certainly a diverse group. Men, young and old, women--no age indicated, some who were professionals in music but others who loved music just for the sake of a song. I remember the postal clerk, the professor, the home maker, and the retired school teacher in a cluster looking for of one member of the team who was missing. Where could he be? The talented trombonist had disappeared, horn and all. We were boarding the plane but without the indispensible trombone. We were struggling with overhead bins, but no trombonist with bulking case appeared! What would we tell his wife? How could we explain to his church that we had lost their husband and director of the choir? Then, breathless and pale, he tromped down the narrow aisle of the Delta jet. Would he tell his story? Explain his delay?
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