I am David’s 1st cello teacher. I taught him from the time he was around 13 until he graduated high school. (I was the professor at Wichita State). It is easy for me to say he was extraordinary, the most talented student I ever had, a born artist, and simply brilliant in every way. He also became my friend, which is a gift to me. We became colleagues and could talk endlessly about the cello and music. David’s love of music, cello and all knowledge was insatiable. I appreciate what you said, Bill. David could have accomplished so many great things. Indeed he already had. I love the campfire story too. I’m sure there are many more. When he was still young, and not quite ready for major repertoire, I walked into a lesson one day and he starts playing the Dvorak concerto for me– accurately and completely by ear. Then I knew I had a major talent on my hands. Sure enough, he learned it and ended up playing it with the Youth orchestra. He entered the Cincinnati Conservatory for his Bachelor’s, and then Georgia State for a masters, and then a principal job. Unstoppable. I’d hear him from time to time, always thrilled at his progress and deepening love and care for music. I can’t imagine anyone loving music more. And then there’s his wonderful personality. His genius also applied to his personal relationships. It was easy to love David. There was no end to his good humor, his philosophizing, and capacity for friendship and loyalty. Whatever we believe about why things happen, I can only take comfort in thinking perhaps David was such a great gift to us, his short time was full and rich, that we can be grateful for that taste we got. We have been deprived so many times of more years from extraordinary people. David joins the ranks of Jacqueline du Pre, Emmanuel Feuermann, Mozart, Schubert, and too many other artists who graced our lives, changed the world for the better, and left too soon.

I hope to meet more of David’s friends as time goes by. We will keep his memory alive. Thank you all.

With love and sadness,
David Schepps
(University of NM cello prof.)

I didn’t know David for very long, only a few months. But it didn’t take me very long to know that David was a special musician and a wonderful person.

I have no doubt that, had he continued to be with us, he would have reached elite status in his profession and we would have been lifelong friends.

It is with thoughts of David’s unfulfilled life that I work to make the most of my own life, as both a professional musician and a human being.

David, may we meet again in the future and collaborate as musicians and friends.

Bill

yes, Keller is certainly well-read, and I think any author who brings a wider readership into contact with the authors he cites is doing a service.

Thanks for stopping by.

I read Keller because of Keller reads others and bring them to bear on the issues of our times…

I guess one of the things I enjoyed about him the most was the unexpected things in him, things that were uniquely ‘David’. Like the time he played at church, but first took OFF his glasses before playing!

Then there was his humble, meek spirit, something you’d not expect from someone so talented. He’d rarely look up during or after playing. He always seemed NOT to want the applause or the attention, but to just quietly vanish into the crowd after playing. Whenever someone would try to compliment him on his playing, he did his best to be courteous, but he really didn’t want to hear it.

He didn’t know how good he was and if he had, he would never have admitted it. From time to time I’d say, in full sincerity, “It won’t be long now before you’re playing for the Atlanta Symphony”. But he thought it was a joke and would laugh at the comment. “That’s a good one!” was his usual response.

When he auditioned for the Macon Symphony last year, after he’d played, he came back in the room and said, “Let’s blow this place! I’m not going to get it!” When the guy in charge came into the room, handed David a contract and said, “Congratulations and welcome to the Macon Symphony” David’s jaw about hit his knees. He looked at me, totally speechless, with his eyes as big as basketballs. He was totally taken by surprise.

Etched in my mind is a moment I’ll never forget, a moment many would have paid to experience. On a camping trip last year, one night David pulled out his cello and there, in the dim light of the campfire, surrounded by the pines with the stars spinning overhead, he began to play. First he played some hymns, all by memory of course, because he was just that good. He began with Overshadowed, my favorite (he was always thinking of others). He then moved on into some classical pieces, never missing a beat, never making a mistake.

When it was over, off in the distance we heard applause from the other campers. The next day they all came over to talk with him, but of course, being David, he didn’t want the attention or the accolades. He patiently and kindly endured their comments and praises, all the while itching for us to get going on a mountain bike ride through the forest.

The next night he played again, mainly because I pushed him into it, but this time one person came out of the darkness to stand at the edge of the fire and just listen, not saying a word, not moving, just listening. It’s not surprising that people didn’t talk when he played, he really could move you to tears or to joy – his playing was that amazing.

Today I was again listening to David playing one of Schubert’s Sonata’s for piano and cello – a treasured gift from him. Many are the times I would love to have captured him playing, but this is the only one I have; it’s greatly valued. (In typical David fashion, when he gave me the CD, he did so with that sheepish grin of his and an apology with hopes that I “might enjoy it”. What wonderful humility!)

While David was perfect in his playing, he was not a perfect human being. I dare anyone to stand up and claim that they are without fault. Which of us could ever say we are? David was VERY aware of his shortcomings and his failings. Those who did not know him, but have hurled accusations, must have some deep, dark issues of their own to be so low, so cowardly. One in particular made statements as if they knew him. They did not know David, for the person they were describing was not David. I knew David and was with him too often, in too many different situations, for extended periods of time not to know him inside and out. But it’s pointless to dwell on those who are so angry at life, so angry at God and His people, so twisted as to attack someone in this way.

There was only a single bullet hole in the car, in the windshield (I put my little finger through it), but it was enough to make a difference. That single bullet, like ripples on a pond, has affected the lives of so many. I wonder if the mind behind the hand that pulled the trigger gave any thought as to the lives that this senseless act would so greatly affect. Probably not.

Looking at the car, I could clearly see the violence of my friends passing, but David would not want his car to remain so. Two of his friends working side by side, together, quietly, late into the night, cleaned up his car for him. To touch something that was a part of David was a chance to say good-bye, to do something, one more time for him, to say that he was loved for who and what he was.

To me it was the place where David was translated, the place where his human eyes began to fail but where his spiritual eyes were opening wide to what we cannot see but know to be there. It was there that David saw what we can only vaguely imagine. It was there that David finally saw the worlds beyond, the worlds in which he is now living and waiting for us.

So this is good-bye for now David. I’m so looking forward to seeing your 6’ 4” frame again, to sit down and talk about all that will have happened between now and then. Maybe you can show me around since you will have been there long before I arrive. I bet you’ll be able to introduce me to Bach since I know he’s in Heaven too! Maybe THEN you can finally teach me how to play “that nutty instrument” as you called it, my hammered dulcimer. In the mean time I’ll continue to do what you would want me to and we can talk about it all then.

Until we meet again David,
Tom