His name is Misha Seymour. By now, most of campus probably knows him as the “Music Man.” I just always knew him as that man who made me smile when I saw him.
In the past months, the University has dealt with many controversial topics, each creating a stir of passion amongst the student body. Some students have taken it upon themselves to stand up for the integrity of education in relation to the opening of the John E. Jaqua Academic Center. Others have chosen to stand up for the rights of everyone to feel safe and included in relation to the Pacifica Forum. I am usually a fairly quiet girl. However, inspired by the recent actions of these students and deeply saddened by what I saw on the cover of the Tuesday’s Daily Emerald, I feel I can no longer allow myself to be silenced.
As I unfolded the newspaper, my heart sank. There in front of me was a photo displaying a Department of Public Safety officer staunchly standing in front of a dejected Music Man.
The photo accurately portrayed the immense hurt in Music Man’s soul, his off-white recorder almost slipping from his hand, as his dreams were ripped away from him. His long, forlorn face stared back at the man given the task of crushing him. The photo’s caption cited “several noise complaints” as the reason for Music Man being asked to leave campus.
I ask you, how could one little man with one small recorder cause so much alleged turmoil on campus? With thousands of students walking by throughout the day, service vehicles rumbling about, and a clock chiming every fifteen minutes, how could one recorder be the source of so much noise pollution?
Music Man always made me smile when I saw him. He always looked content in what he did. He found his passion in the underappreciated recorder. Most people cannot handle the demanding nature of the recorder after about the third grade, and those who make it to the fifth are few; however, Music Man was a rare gem. He was a man unafraid to play a rendition of “When the Saints Go Marching In” that could spark nostalgia in just about anyone. He made us all remember that there’s an instrument out there that we have forgotten, and its name is the recorder. It is important for us as students and as a community to recognize and encourage this type of devotion and enthusiasm.
Music Man was an important piece of the University’s campus culture. If we allow him to be pushed to the outskirts of our school, who will be next? Can you imagine a campus without “Frog” roaming with his comic books? What about a place where that one guy no longer walks through campus yelling, “Go Ducks!” quickly followed by profanities aimed at LTD? And what about no more man standing in the amphitheater telling us we’re all sinners and riling up a strong student response? What culture will our campus have left if we allow this to happen?
The University has taught me to stand up for what I believe in. I believe in this. I will leave you with my vision. I see a group of concerned students, banding together, walking in bold solidarity down East 13th Avenue with Music Man, our leader, each of us playing “We Shall Overcome” on his or her recorder. Do not let the culture of our campus be pushed aside.
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