Around Christmas last year I received a group message on Facebook from my high school band director's daughter. She was putting together a present for her dad in the form of memories from former students. One of my closest friends during my time at Woodway High School was Steve Caldwell, son of The Mighty Bruce Caldwell - band director. Steve was a prodigy on the piano and trumpet, and when I was a freshman, he was by far the coolest sophomore in school. I felt lucky and chosen to be his constant after school companion. Steve and I went on to be roommates after high school, and started and played in a band together called Laughing Man for a good portion of the ‘90s. 

What follows is my birthday letter to Mr. Caldwell.   

I can't quite recall the last time I saw you. I'm assuming it was some time around the last time Steve and I lived together in the mid ‘90s. I'll bring you up to speed on what I've done since then.

I kept playing in bands around Seattle, until in 1997, I started winning tryouts in bands that had record deals. Since then I've been signed to Reprise, Columbia, Atlantic, and Capitol (as well as a slew of indie labels). In 2000 I moved to Los Angeles, where I met and married my wife in 2004. We had a son (Coleman) in 2005 and moved back to the Northwest. We bought a house in the North End of Tacoma, to be specific. In March of 2007 I was diagnosed with col-rectal cancer (no jokes please) and spent the year on the path to "remission" - which I am happy to announce is the other state I currently reside in.

Up until June of this year, I was playing and touring with the original bass player from Guns ‘n Roses, Duff McKagan - in a band he and I started called Loaded. Lots of international touring, and the "seeing the world'" bit, but lacking in the financial payoff department; I decided to hang up my touring spurs. I'm currently playing four (paying) nights a week, and am penning two columns (one weekly and one biweekly) for a Tacoma rag called the Weekly Volcano. You can find them both online at www.weeklyvolcano.com

You taught me the most important thing (other than being prepared) was to be on time, right? All I can say is, I wish more guys I've played with had gone to Woodway. From you I learned there would be success and failures in life; that there would be euphoria and heartbreak. From you I learned that fun and games had a place, but only after preparation. And it was from you that I acquired my love of jazz music and KPLU - a love that follows me around to this day like an old, wise friend.

I have soooo many memories from the band room that make me who I am today. It would be impossible to come up with just one. But these are the two I tell the most. 

The first one, obviously, is Steve - as he was dropping me off at home - insisting I loan him a bong I had somehow acquired. We were in the band truck and the last words out of my mouth were, "Don't forget it!"....

We know how that ended up. Lesson learned. When you later told me how mad it had made you, I almost had a moment of clarity (as much as a 15-year-old can), thinking about the future, and kids I might have one day, and how I might react to the same situation.

Then, senior year, Jeff Darah and I somehow ended up in a pushing match that escalated into him punching me in the jaw. To this day, it remains the only time I have ever been hit in the face, and as close to being in a fight as I have ever come.

So, he hits me in the face, and then (wisely) takes off running. You weren't in the band room at the time. We started in the instrument room, I chased him left across the front of the band room, up to the drum section, across the back passed the tubas, back down the steps, and back into the instrument room. Only, the moment Jeff went through the doorway and out of view, you walked around the corner through the main entrance into the band room. All you saw was me running full speed with a purpose.

"!!!!READING!!!!!"

Into your office of for one of the hundreds of "Bruce talks" you and I had. I don't remember the gist of this particular talk, but when I came out, Darah was sitting at the piano right in front of your office, waiting, sticking his hand out to shake mine.

"Truce?"

What could I do? I shook his hand, rubbed the red mark on my jaw, and told him it was a pretty good punch.

And now that I'm thinking about it. There is one more story I always wanted to ask about. It was Expo '86 - the opening. Rick Peterson, Jon Peterson and I were in our room - with Jennifer Warren. You popped your head into the window, checking for curfew. You had this crazy smile on your face. The look you gave us was half "Did I catch you doing something?" and half "I've had a couple stiff ones and don't entirely care if you know it."

Without changing expressions, you asked us why Jennifer wasn't in her room, and were satisfied with the answer of "Her room is right next door, and she'll be there shortly." You gave us one more flash of the toothiest grin we had ever seen on you, said "Be good," and popped back out the window.

We sat around in awe, wondering aloud if you'd had a buzz on. And I've always wondered. 

Happy birthday, Mr. Caldwell. 

Drummer Geoff Reading - who writes a bi-weekly online column (Fridays) for the Weekly Volcano called "Holding Down the 253" in addition to his weekly Wednesday music column - has played music in tons of Northwest bands - Green Apple Quick Step, New American Shame, Top Heavy Crush and most recently Duff McKagan's LOADED - to name but a few. He's toured the world several times over, sharing stages with the likes of Slipknot, The Cult, Buckcherry, Korn, Journey, The Sex Pistols, Nine Inch Nails and on and on. He has called Tacoma home since 2005, and lives in the North End with his wife and son.