Boomer's Journal - Star Spangled TAPS

By Rachel Barduson of Alexandria

Music has a remarkable influence on emotions – at least on mine. There are songs for seasons and holidays, songs that bring us back to high school, songs that show our faith, and songs that bring us peace. Songs celebrate life, or at the very least, allow us to take pause in parts of our emotions of where we might be “at” on any given day.

TAPS is perhaps not a song we think of as part of a Fourth of July celebration, but for some reason, it’s on my mind this year. TAPS is one of the first songs I learned how to play on my cornet in the fifth grade. It wasn’t something I learned how to play because of the Fourth of July. Instead, it was something that goes back to, again, a lesson that is stamped into time by my dad.

My trusty cornet. I’ve had it since the fall of 1963. Contributed photo

I remember it well. I was just learning how to play this instrument. An instrument that was brand new to me, but a used one that mom and dad had asked me if I’d be interested in learning how to play. “Band” in school began in the fifth grade, therefore, fifth grade was the pivotal year of deciding what instrument we would play for the rest of our life if we wanted to be in “band.” And, quite frankly, determine whether we would be in “band” at all. My oldest sister chose a woodwind instrument, the clarinet. That of course was handed down to the next sister, and the next sister – perhaps not a choice – just a decision due to economics. Mom and dad had bought one instrument, and it had “to do” for the entire family. (An aside to the story – my brother chose the trombone, which didn’t last long, so I think my parents had grave concerns about whether to “invest” in me with anything other than the trusty hand-me-down clarinet). A new dilemma arose when it was my time to choose. The family clarinet wasn’t available yet because my closest sister in age was still “in band” – since she was two grades ahead of me in school. We would be “in band” together.

I was happy the family clarinet wasn’t available to me. I was glad I didn’t have to get the “hand-me-down” once again. I didn’t want to play the clarinet anyway. So... when mom and dad said that our neighbor Jimmy’s cornet was available, well... the decision was made. I would play the cornet, a brass instrument instead of the family woodwind. Mom and dad negotiated with Jimmy’s folks, Eddie and Ione, and I was presented with my cherished cornet. To be honest, I was a bit terrified because if I didn’t like to play this horn, well, I would be letting my parents down in their investment in my musical career. On another side note, thank you Jimmy for sacrificing your musical career in the Evansville High School band so I could play the cornet. We both came out ahead on that transaction.

Band lessons began. God bless all parents who listen to their child practice. I have three kids who all played instruments throughout their school years, and practice can be “loud” and somewhat tedious, yet joyful, as progress becomes apparent. Encouragement to practice comes in many different forms.

I look back at these times and realize that my dad had a few profound tricks up his sleeve in convincing me that “practice” pays off. One day he asked me to take my cornet to the top of the hill in our pasture on the farm and play TAPS at sunset. I didn’t quite understand why he wanted me to do this, but I did it. My first concern as an 11-year-old was how far I had to walk uphill to that particular spot on the hill (in reality, it wasn’t that far). I didn’t realize it at the time, but this was more than a lesson in learning how to play this new instrument. Somehow dad always managed to teach more than one lesson at a time.

I remember it well – the feeling that I had as I stood on the hill and played TAPS for the first time. I was so proud! To this day, the song gives me goosebumps. I cry when a veteran is accorded military honors at funerals and graveside services. The memory of playing it that first time isn’t about the achievement as a 10 or 11-year-old. It is about the song, the melody, the cadence, the emotion – the honor that this song brings. The echo of TAPS on the hill on our farm is distinct in my memory. In dad’s infinite wisdom, this was more than learning how to play the cornet. Clearly, dad was feeling gratitude for our freedoms and he was passing that along to me – to feel gratitude in the fact that I could walk up that hill with my cornet in tow, and freely pay honor and respect to the freedom provided us because of the brave men and women who fought for that freedom. He told me about his brother Sidney, who fought in World War II; my uncle who didn’t talk about his service – but I knew he had served. I remember well that first time I climbed that small hill, and I made sure I did it more than once.

And so why write about this as we celebrate the 250th birthday of our nation? Our Fourth of July celebrations are about happy tunes and upbeat rhythms accompanied by fireworks, pageants, parades and picnics. Yet, TAPS is on my mind this year. TAPS is a song that I consider sad, because it is played at funerals and memorials and cemeteries. It is a somber reminder – of sacrifices.

TAPS is a song with 24 distinct notes and primarily known to be played, with no lyrics sung. The gratitude I feel when I hear TAPS goes beyond words. On this Fourth of July, we will again sing the National Anthem that we all learned in our youth, in grade school – with words including, “Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave – o’re the land of the free, and the home of the brave.”  Our national anthem, a song “written by Francis Scott Key in 1814, after witnessing the United States flag survive the British bombardment of Fort McHenry.”  It became the official U.S. national anthem in 1931 – not that long ago.

And yet, TAPS is on my mind.

Delving into the source and history of TAPS, I found that the song dates back to the Civil War. “In July of 1862, United States General Daniel Butterfield and his brigade were camped at Harrison’s Landing, Virginia, recuperating after the Seven Days Battles (June 25 – July 1, 1862) near Richmond. Dissatisfied with the standard bugle call employed by the Army to indicate to troops it was time to go to sleep, and thinking the call should sound more melodious, Butterfield reworked an existing bugle call used to signal the end of the day. After he had his brigade bugler, Private Oliver Wilcox Northon, play it for the men, buglers from other units became interested and it quickly spread throughout the Army, and even caught on with the Confederates. Not long after, Butterfield created TAPS, it was played for the first time at a military funeral, for a Union cannoneer killed in action.” 

There’s much more I could write about the origin and fascinating history of TAPS. I encourage you to search further. Today at Berkely Plantation, the historic estate located at Harrison’s Landing, there’s a monument commemorating the origins of TAPS at the site. Berkely Plantation also happens to be the birthplace of Benjamin Harrison V, a signer of the Declaration of Independence and William Henry Harrison, the nation’s ninth president.***

And so, this Fourth of July, I will sing the National Anthem. And, I will sing a more recent patriotic anthem written by Lee Greenwood, an American country music singer who wrote “God Bless the U.S.A.” released in 1984. A song that has become tradition “on the lakes of Minnesota.” And,  I will take pause to remember my days on the hill in our pasture on the farm – when I marched through tall grass with my cornet in tow – to pay and play respects to the men and women who fought for our freedom. And the lessons they have taught me.