On November 10th, in my improvisational dance class, I went exploring through the endless forest of tall green trees and ground level rivers. The trees were still and the rivers flowed to invent a new score. This score included innovated movement on a pathway I created with my partner. To capture the full forest effect, my partner and I needed to make noises, tones, and a rhythm for our score.
Before I tell you what happened next, I would like to take a minute to explain my talents.
I'm without a doubt a sufferer of tone deafness, voice cracks, and lyric forgetfulness. In other words, tones of rhythm are a foreign language to me.
As if I had just poured a bucket of cold slime on my hands, my sweat poured through my skin and left my hands with a slab of bodily fluids. It was the same sweat that you wipe on your dress on your first date, or that you wipe on your pants before your first college midterm. It was scared sweat.
So, of course, I went first because the theory is if you get it over with you'll forget about it faster. As expected the first noise that I made effort to sing came out as an epic repeat of voice cracks. However, halfway down the path of movement, I surprisingly started to sing "Hail to the Victors." Don't worry, I got the lyrics and the rhythm right.
As my day went on, I went on to realize I sang this song because it was on the top of my mind. And information at the top of my mind and your mind tend to be important, so listen up.
"Hail to the Victors" saved me with support, loved me with comfort, and gave me vitality with rhythm. The University of Michigan fight song, in that moment, was a mom, a dad, and a best friend. The mom in it was providing care and warmth, the dad was saying take a risk (and get rewarded), and the best friend was building up my energy. "The Victors" in that moment were my family and will continue to be my family.
Today, "Hail to the Victors" was a gift for me, but I believe one day it will be a gift for you because here at Michigan there is always a gift that keeps on giving.
