You Don’t Know How Beautiful You Are Unless Someone Tells You

Earlier this evening, Mrs. Dude and I went to see 4·4·1 play at the church to which the band’s drummer belongs to commemorate their release of a new CD (yes, MP3 generation, people still manufacture actual physical product for the purpose of storing for playback recorded music… but I digress).  The advantage of a built-in audience notwithstanding, the show was well attended and enthusiastically received.  All participants did their best to overcome the room’s sound-swallowing acoustics and performed with energy and skill.  The highlights for this listener were “Pray For Rain,” my favorite 4·4·1 song, and when the band’s most popular tune “Break Out” featured two sons of drummer Steve Giali plus a friend coming on stage to play synchronized tom-toms, including a solo, all with the track’s infectious beat.

During the show, I found myself thinking about back in the day when 4·4·1 was one of the dozens of bands playing shows every Saturday night throughout southern California.  I’d read about this in CCM magazine and whatever other printed material was available, becoming quite envious of those who had such a wealth of music at their disposal.  Up in the San Francisco Bay Area we had concerts of this nature once, maybe twice a month which put us far ahead of most other places.  But every weekend filled with the new music I loved so much… now that would have been heaven on earth.

After it was done, I said hi and chatted for a bit with the band members.  They were genuinely touched that Mrs. Dude and I came down for the show, and were excited by the book’s imminent publication.  Naturally, Mr. Marketing Department neglected to bring so much as a business card to hand out, thus missing out on a golden opportunity to do some promotion.  Oops.  I have got to start doing this sort of thing automatically.

Anyway, said all that to say this.

Saying thank you is something we’re taught from day one to do whenever someone does something for us.  Someone holds the door open for us, we thank them.  Someone offers good advice, we thank them.  Someone offers a sympathetic ear or lends a hand, we thank them.  It’s what we do.

And then we’re done with it.

Or are we.

When someone has an impact on our life that like a stone hitting the surface of a pond causes movement extending beyond the initial point of contact, should we consider thanks for solely the beginning of it all to be sufficient?  No.  The moments brought about by movement also deserve expressed gratitude to the one or ones who planted the seed now grown.

Somewhere during the book writing process I realized it was in one sense my thank you to the bands and artists whose stories it tells.  I owe them much.  The least I can do is give something back to them by reminding as many people as possible who were there during that time of the debt they, too, owe.  And inform those who weren’t there about the lives and times of a generation that built a foundation yet is seemingly forgotten.

Are there people who’ve influenced your life in a positive fashion?  A teacher, a minister, a co-worker present or former?  Track them down.  Let them know how what they did then has brought you to where you are now.  Let them know how much it, and they, have meant to you all these years.

And say thank you.  Again.

They deserve to hear it.