Fly a Little Higher

by Laura Sobiech

  Once everyone was settled, instruments ready to go and lyrics handed out, they sat down in a circle and listened to the song together. It didn’t take long, and the ideas started flowing.

  “What do you think, Zach?” asked Karl as he used his whole body to get a feel for the song. His foot tapped the floor, his hand slapped his leg, and even his shoulders and head were fully engaged. He loved a good song. He didn’t just listen to it; he became a part of it. “Do you have a direction you want to take the song?”

  “I don’t know,” Zach said. “I guess I was sort of thinking I’d like it to be upbeat. I don’t think it’s a sad song.” Everyone nodded in agreement. Zach reached over the armrest of the couch and grabbed his guitar that was leaning against the wall. He started playing the chords. Zach Miller, the drummer, picked up his sticks and joined in as he tapped out a rhythm on the coffee table. Sean plucked a few notes on the bass, and Matt strummed on the electric guitar. John sat down at the electric piano and played along. It was an incredible thing to watch all that talent as it came together in a unique and crazy way. There was a sense that something outside of that room was weaving it all together.

  After toying with a few different sounds, they had a good idea of the tone the song would take. Zach, who was just thrilled to be there and work with professionals, was willing to let them lead the way. As they refined the sound, Zach liked what he was hearing and was ready to start recording. Karl grabbed Zach’s guitar and led him into the soundproof room. Zach leaned his crutches on the wall and took a seat at the microphone. Mike Rominski, the videographer, followed them into the room, and so began the recording of “Clouds” and the “Clouds” video.

  One after the other, each musician went into the soundproof room and laid down his track. With each new layer, the song emerged. It became fuller and richer and something entirely different from the version Zach had already done. There were a few times a track would need to be redone or tweaked, but it really just sort of came together. I was so amazed by these guys who didn’t know Zach and didn’t really know one another before that day and who had all taken time off from their day jobs to come together and make this wonderful thing happen.

  It was one of those magical days that don’t happen very often, when people are brought together for something bigger than themselves, by something bigger than themselves.

  As the recording wrapped up, I asked Karl if this was how it usually happened, meet for a day and hammer out a song. As newbies to the whole production process, it was fascinating to watch how effortlessly the whole thing had come together. He chuckled. “No. Something like this should have taken at least two, probably three days.”

  I knew that was probably right. The day simply felt blessed.

  After the musicians packed up their instruments, we all stood around, exhausted but elated. One of the guys leaned over to me and said, “I am so happy to be part of this. It’s been an incredible day.”

  As we left the studio, I noticed Zach, the drummer, and Karl go into the soundproof room with a glockenspiel, an instrument similar to a xylophone but with metal bars rather than wood. I’d heard them talking earlier about adding the instrument and how it might have a cool effect somewhere in the song.

  The next day Karl e-mailed me the mixed version and wanted to know what I thought. I was so used to the acoustic version and its understated and folksy sound that the more pop-sounding version took me awhile to get used to. And honestly, the glockenspiel was a stretch. I couldn’t help but think of Christmas music. But when Karl told me that he was trying to give the song a music-box sound to give it a childlike quality, I understood. He was right; it was a perfect fit.

  When Zach got home from school, I played him the finished recording. The glockenspiel started, and his eyes lit up. “That’s so cool.” He laughed.

  As the song progressed, he made comments about each part that he loved, especially the echo in the bridge that gave the lyrics a forlorn and introspective feel. He was ecstatic. That’s when Grace entered the kitchen.

  “Hey, Grace,” called Zach, “did you hear the super awesome song I wrote?” He danced around her as she walked into the kitchen. “Did ya? Did ya hear it?” He goaded and poked her in the ribs until she yelled at him to knock it off.

  “Yeah, I heard it,” she said. “It’s okay.” She popped a gummy worm in her mouth and walked out. She had a way of putting him in his place when he took things too far. If he was going to get a big head over this thing, she’d be there with a big needle ready to pop it. He was cool. But he wasn’t that cool. About an hour later, she asked if I would upload the song from my computer onto her iPod.

  “It’s a good song,” she said with a tinge of resignation in her voice.

  I e-mailed the song to Rob, who was at the nursing home with his mom. Her health had been failing for several years, since before Zach got sick, and had recently taken a turn for the worse. She’d had a heart attack the night before and was in very serious condition. She wasn’t expected to make it to the end of the week. Rob played “Clouds” for her, and she wept. After eighty-four years of hard work and good living, she wasn’t sure she was ready to die. Now here was her seventeen-year-old grandson teaching her how to.

  Now that the song was finished, the video could be produced. Mike e-mailed me the first version with a question: Would I like to put slides throughout the video to explain Zach’s story? Initially I thought, why bother? Everyone who would want to watch the video would likely already know Zach’s story. Who else would be interested in Zach and his song? But as I thought about it, I decided maybe people outside our circle of friends and family would want to check it out. It was a good song, after all. Maybe if we put in slides that explained what Zach had been through with a link for CCRF at the end, people would be interested in donating. It would be nice if “Clouds” could help raise a few dollars to help pediatric cancer research.

  I sent Mike a few slides that briefly summarized Zach’s story along with the link to CCRF for the last slide.

  Two days later, Rob’s mother passed away. I held her hand as I hummed “Clouds.” She was the first to bring “Clouds” to eternity.

  No one had any idea that in a matter of days the song would be brought to people around the globe and would change the hearts of others who were burdened with anger, fear, and despair.

  No one could guess how big this thing was about to get.

  Twenty-One

  December 2012

  WE WERE THRILLED TO FIND OUT THAT KS95 PLANNED TO PLAY “Clouds” in steady rotation during its two-day radiothon. The event would take place all day Thursday and Friday. We were excited, primarily for the live interview, but also to be part of the fund-raising effort. It was a big event, and we were thrilled to do our part. In his short life, Zach had gotten to do some incredible things: play football in the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome to win the championship, win his championship basketball game, and get a nibble of the rock star life. Not to mention he got to travel to some amazing places like Mexico, Italy, and France. But this! This was a whole new level of incredible. He was going to have a song that he wrote and performed played on a major radio station in a major market. It was crazy!

  The week started with a couple of interviews. A reporter from a local newspaper, the Pioneer Press, and an affiliated videographer followed Zach, Amy, and Sammy around for a couple of days. The newspaper was going to run a front-page story that focused on Zach, his battle with cancer, and the writing of “Clouds” in that Sunday’s edition. The video would take a different approach; it would be a more intimate look at Zach, his personality, and his relationships. It would be posted on the newspaper’s website the Saturday before the article was printed. We also spent a good deal of time preparing for the upcoming fund-raiser/party in Zach’s honor. By the end of the week, all the media attention and party planning had us all exhausted.

  When radiothon day arrived, we were excited. We figured we would get through it, enjoy the novelty of hearing t
he song on the radio, and move on. Once the radiothon was over and the video and article were published, interest in the song and Zach’s story would die down, and we would move on and be just another family with a child dying from cancer.

  The live interview went well, though there was a moment I thought I would choke when Ryan, the DJ, put the mic in my face and asked, “Laura, why is it so important that people call in and donate to help fight childhood cancer?” My mind froze for a split second; it seemed like such a no-brainer: because kids will keep dying if we don’t have money to figure this thing out. I recovered and explained in more eloquent language than what ran through my head.

  “If we don’t raise money to fight this horrible disease, it doesn’t go away. We can all hope for a cure, but what it boils down to is that it takes money to fight this thing. Plain and simple.”

  Zach made me incredibly proud with his poise and eloquence. This boy, who just moments before he was called for the interview was playing around on the escalators and reenacting the scene from Elf where Buddy steps on an escalator for the first time and ends up doing the splits the whole way up, stepped up to that mic and spoke with incredible maturity.

  “It’s not just about me,” he said, “it’s about the kids who will be diagnosed tomorrow. Or the kids who are lying in a hospital bed right now. Let’s work together to help them.”

  The station played our prerecorded interview from several months earlier along with “Clouds,” and the phones rang as people called in to donate what they could. We were encouraged to know that we were helping to make a small difference. It felt good to do our part in the fund-raising arena, especially since it was completely outside my comfort zone. I’d secretly put this kind of thing on my I-Never-Want-To-Do List. Asking people for money had always seemed so bold and intimidating. I simply had never had the confidence to do it.

  We spent hours listening to the radio over the course of the two days. The station played the interview and song several times. Friends, family members, and coworkers texted us to let us know they’d heard the song, and we were receiving e-mails, Facebook messages, and guest-book messages on our CaringBridge site from people all over the Twin Cities who wanted us to know they had heard Zach’s story and “Clouds.” The outpouring was overwhelming and quite unexpected.

  Zach and Sammy were scheduled to perform at Winter Coffee House, a biannual fund-raising event put on by the high school’s National Honor Society, on Friday night, the last day of the radiothon. Each event raised money for a charitable cause that had been voted on by NHS members beforehand. A year earlier, Zach and Mitch had nominated Lance. This time around the NHS voted to give the funds to Zach.

  He was about to step onstage to perform his music in front of two hundred classmates who had gathered to support him, and a song he wrote and recorded was playing in rotation on a local radio station. It was bigger than he could have imagined. He was exhausted and nervous, but he was on top of the world.

  That night Zach, Mitch, and Sammy performed “Blueberries” for the first time. They sounded great and ended the song with fist bumps. The crowd loved it! And after a few more acts, Zach got back up onstage, stepped up to the mic, and performed “Clouds” for the first time in front of a live audience. With a huge grin on his face, he pointed across the room to Amy and dedicated the song to her.

  That simple act had a big impact on a lot of people, but not in the same way. For Amy, it was a turning point. People who weren’t close to either her or Zach suddenly understood what was going on. They realized that she was dating Zach. There was no mystery anymore. For Amy, it made things a little easier. She didn’t have to deal with the wondering looks in the classroom or hallway anymore. Her classmates understood that she was Zach’s girlfriend.

  For other people in Zach’s life, that dedication came off a little different. While Zach had previously made it clear to everyone he was close to—his family, Sammy, and Mitch in particular—that “Clouds” had been written to thank them for sticking by his side over the past three years, now people thought the song was all about Amy, a relative newcomer to his life. Feelings were hurt.

  Things got even more difficult when the newspaper website posted the video.

  The video itself was beautifully done and remains one of my favorites because it revealed a vulnerable side of Zach that he didn’t show to outsiders very often. He talked about Amy and how she had supported him and how much he relied on her. He loved her deeply, and it really showed.

  But what the video didn’t show was everyone else who’d been faithfully by his side. There were mixed feelings among Zach’s friends and siblings. They felt slighted but knew that it was neither Zach’s nor Amy’s fault. We were getting a taste of the celebrity life and how limited media can be, focusing on one chapter of a book in order to draw an audience in, but missing out on the beauty of the whole story. It was a crash course in how to balance the outside attention with the inside reality.

  Twenty-Two

  IT WAS A GOOD TIME FOR ZACH AND AMY TO GET OUT OF TOWN, giving the stirred-up emotions a chance to settle. They were going to attend Amy’s cousin’s wedding in Kansas and would be back late Sunday night. Zach and Amy and her family got home safely Sunday evening despite having to travel through a nasty snowstorm that dumped around ten inches.

  When he walked in the door around eleven o’clock that night, he found me up, listening to my iPod. I had “Clouds,” “Fix Me Up,” and “Blueberries” on repeat while I knitted a pair of socks to give as a Christmas present.

  “Hey! How’d it go?” I set my knitting down as he took a seat on the couch.

  “It was awesome. Her family is a lot like ours. Everyone gets along really well and just likes to have fun,” he said with an exhausted but content smile on his face.

  He went on to tell me that he had given Amy a special present, a topaz ring.

  “I wanted to give her something nice, that she could keep always,” he said. “She deserves it.” Amy’s dance team name was Topaz so he liked the symbolism. He got quiet, and his eyes took on a look of sadness.

  “It was hard, too, being at the wedding.” He looked down at his hands. “Just knowing that Amy and I will never be able to get married. It’s not fair to her.”

  My heart ached. To love someone so much that you spend the rest of your life with her was a wish he wouldn’t be granted. But he worried about Amy.

  We sat in silence for a moment as we thought about a future that would never be. It was easy to fall into despair thinking about things that could never happen. It was best to focus on what was right in front of us.

  “I’m grateful she is with you now,” I said, trying to bring us both back to the present.

  He stood from the couch and stretched. It was late, and he was exhausted. It had been a crazy few days, and he had school in the morning. He leaned down so I could kiss him good night on the forehead and then took a piece of notebook paper out of his pocket.

  “I wrote a song when we were driving through Ames, Iowa. I thought you might like to see it.” He handed the frayed paper to me and hobbled out of the room. “Good night, Ma. And thanks.”

  I unfolded the sheet of paper and started to read:

  Well, the water trickles down the glass

  The first will never be the last

  At least, not here and not today

  The sharp sun’s rays bite at my face

  And the howling wind begs me to stay

  But I really must be getting home

  It might be time for me to go

  But that doesn’t mean you have to leave

  And winter might be giving us snow

  But who’s to say we can’t still believe?

  The trees have all cut their hair

  They’ve said good-bye and left somewhere

  As a sea of fields greet us and push us onward

  We’ve curled up and settled in

  And in this life you can never win

  Only hope and pray that
you can keep what you have

  Well, it might be time for me to go

  But that doesn’t mean you have to leave

  And winter might be giving us snow

  But who’s to say we can’t still believe?

  Our sleep will become deeper soon

  More beautiful than the sun, sea, the moon

  That’s ours and no one can take it

  It might be time for me to go

  But that doesn’t mean you have to leave

  And winter might be giving us snow

  But who’s to say we can’t still believe?

  Our engine will keep on turning

  And the stars will smile on us

  And even when we’re torn apart

  I will not lose this love

  I rested my hands in my lap as I clutched the paper and closed my eyes. The heartache of having to let go poured out of him in the form of words onto paper. I just hoped the void would be filled with some measure of peace.

  “Keep him close, Lord. Please, keep him very, very close.” I tucked my knitting away, switched off the lamp, and headed up to bed. As I lay in bed and waited for sleep to come, I reflected on everything we’d packed into the past few days. I marveled at how much we had been given. How many seventeen-year-olds had been granted such extraordinary opportunities? His life had been tough, for certain. But the backdrop of his unyielding battle made his accomplishments all the more sweet. I was so proud of him and so grateful for all that God had done for him.