I received sad news on July 11, 2019. That is the day I heard that Mr. Gerald Carasea, or Mr. C as his students’ affectionately called him, passed away at the age of 68. I graduated from Cloverleaf High School over 30 years ago, but I remember fondly my time as a “band rat” under the tutelage of Mr. C.
I have so many memories of Mr. Carasea. He was an inspiring person. He taught me the fundamentals of playing the trumpet when I was in fifth grade. He overlooked the fact that I forged (more than once) my parents’ signature as proof that I practiced my horn. I always liked playing in the band, but I never much cared for practicing. I was sad to learn that he wouldn’t be my band director in junior high, but as the head over the music department in the district, he was never too far away.
I was not a very talented musician. Probably because I didn’t practice, but Mr. C never forgot about me. In ninth grade, I was able to join the high school marching band. I think Mr. C knew that I didn’t have it in me to compete with the other trumpeters, so he convinced me to move to low brass and take up the baritone. Since the valves and the music were the same, it seemed like a good idea. Then he decided to put me and another freshman baritone player in a squad with two trombone players. That’s when I decided to learn how to play the trombone.
It was Mr. C that gave me private lessons after school so that I could learn how to play the instrument. It was Mr. C who asked me to play in the Jazz band. That was quite an honor, because you could only be a part of it by invitation of Mr. C. I don’t know why he would want to offer a place to this awkward teenage girl with no self confidence and little music ability, but he did. Or maybe that is why he did it. He took his job as a music teacher seriously. He must have known the impact such decisions would make on his students.
But don’t get me wrong, Mr. C was a demanding band director. He worked his students hard all year long, but especially through the month of August each year. He was quite the visionary creating choreography for his marching band to perform each Friday night at football games. I can’t count how many times I heard him yell at us on the practice field on a hot August day. I sometimes think we worked harder and longer than any of the football players we would cheering for through the fall.
The year I joined marching band was the first year that Mr. C began to put serious effort in marching band competitions. I don’t know how many band shows we traveled to that first year, just trying to score high enough to qualify for the state competition. I think I screamed myself hoarse at the final show where we finally got enough points to go. It was amazing. And it was all because of Mr. C believed we could do it. He was proud of us and we all knew it.
I didn’t participate in band for all four years of high school. I decided to quit because I was going to the Vocational School my junior year. When I look back at high school, I think that was probably the worse decision I made. I think Mr. C tried to talk me out of quitting, but who can tell a 16 year old anything?
Thankfully, there have been a few of times in my adult life that I had the opportunity to participate in community bands. Because of what I learned from him, I participated in the trombone section. Much to the chagrin of my dad, Bud Breese, who has always played a trumpet or cornet. Then in 2011, the year that Mr. C decided to retire from teaching, the assistant band director, Andrew Winter, asked alumni of Mr. C’s bands to come back as a tribute to the man who meant so much to us. It was so fun and exciting on the night when we performed with the current Cloverleaf High School concert band to the surprise of Mr. C.
I was still pretty bad at playing music. Missed more notes than I hit. But I was so happy to be there, in some small way, showing Mr. C how much he meant to me. I guess it should not have been a surprise when Mr. C, out of the blue and with no rehearsal on our part, decided we should play the Cloverleaf Fight Song. I’m not sure I ever memorized that song when I was in band, but I definitely had no memory of the notes some 25 plus years after I last played it! However, it was fun just to be under his direction one last time.
When I think about how many students walked through his band room door over the course of his career, it is mind boggling. Yet, he always remembered my name and my sister, Randi and my parents, who he always called Mr. and Mrs. Breese.
I know I’m not the only one who was inspired to be a better person because of him. I am sad to know he is gone. But I am so thankful to have known him.
Rest in peace, Mr. C. You’ll be missed.
