Like some of the songs she gets her students to play, Kelly Ballard has a naturally upbeat way of discussing her life and time as a music and band teacher at Girls Preparatory School.
​
She has been able to grow the band and orchestra participants at the independent girls’ school in North Chattanooga in her nearly three years there, she said positively, and she also credits the support of her fellow fine arts teaching colleagues and others.

“I work with amazing people. They are amazing educators,” she said. “I love coming to work every day.”

But in contrast with the supportive staff and a more crowded band and rehearsal room of students on school days now, two decades earlier she had to go it alone and literally move to the beat of her own drum. However, it was in a good, pioneering and also-supported way, as she, in 2005, successfully became the first female drum major in the history of the prestigious University of Tennessee Pride of the Southland Marching Band.

Then known as Kelly Bradshaw, she was able to beat out four other male finalists for the honor at this school that had previously had only female assistant drum majors.

As Ms. Ballard recently sat in her spacious practice room at the school during a teaching break and reminisced, she implied that her life has involved plenty of physical moves since college with various jobs. But it has always involved musical movements, too.

“I started the piano when I was 4 or 5 and I kept going,” she said of her young years growing up in Roanoke, Va. “I played piano and flute and was super into choir.”

Ms. Ballard also served as high school drum major for two years and said that and her other experiences in music leadership helped her become more outgoing. This would help down the road at UT, where she first played piccolo in the band for two years. The band, she said, had members playing smaller piccolos instead of flutes due to the tight marching in the school’s unique and famous circle drill performed at some of the halftime performances.

By the time her third year was getting ready to start, she decided to try out for the high-profile drum major position, which at UT also involves some gymnastics-like strutting and back stretching as well as conducting the band.

Although she had decided to apply and did some preparatory work with the band several weeks in advance, the main tryout involved a day of interviews, including a marching sequence and some strutting. And, if you passed the first round, you later led a rehearsal of band members.

“The whole day felt surreal,” she said, remembering that she had bought a dress suit for the interview and picked her favorite band song, which was the opening sequence to “The New World.”

The following Monday was when she was to learn if she had been selected. “During classes that day, that was all I could think about,” she said. “I went to choir rehearsal and then I saw my roommate stick her face in the door.”

She ran out into the hallway, she said, and there on the board was her name as the drum major. She had made history as the school’s first female drum major.

“I ran all over the place,” she recalled with excitement, even though more than two decades had passed. “I could not believe it. I called my dad, and he was speechless. It was amazing, really fun.”

She then remembered meeting with the band director, Dr. Gary Sousa, and he told her he was going to be as hard on her as he was on any male drum major, but she also quickly realized he was going to be in her corner, too, and support her. She eventually met the legendary and respected former band director, Dr. J. Julian, and, although she was nervous about meeting him, he gave her a supportive hug and welcomed her heartily to the exclusive club.

When the 2005 football season rolled around, she was able to get going well as the drum major, despite initially trying to see past a TV cameraman as the pregame performance of the first game was getting ready to start. The music all went well, but the Vols had their first bad season in several years under Coach Phillip Fulmer and finished only with a 5-6 record. 

This was in the early days of social media, with Facebook the primary source, and she remembered that somehow people were blaming the fact that the Vols were struggling in football on having a female drum major for the first time.

But the season in which she was greatly supported by the band included plenty of high moments as well. She was interviewed by some reporters at the Florida game in Gainesville, and the band got to play at Tiger Stadium in a game that was moved to a Monday night due to Hurricane Katrina. The team and band also took a rare trip up to Notre Dame, where she met former Fighting Irish walk-on star Rudy Ruettiger of the famous “Rudy” movie after she introduced herself to him.

“Rudy knew who I was,” she recalled. “He said, ‘I know about you. You are the lady drum major.’”

After finishing at UT, her life would become much quieter, but the music never stopped. In 2009, she married John Ballard, a TVA engineer who had played in the band at Hixson High. They would later have two sons, Bryan and James.

Kelly worked in special education at Big Ridge Elementary and taught some private music lessons. The latter halted with the COVID-19 outbreak beginning in 2020, when she home-schooled Bryan, who is scheduled to attend McCallie this fall.

“I was so bored and ready for a change and looking for private lessons,” she said of that time. 

She was soon hired at the former Cadek Conservatory that had been moved to GPS. From there, she learned about an opening at GPS, and following a full day of interviews with everyone from school head Megan Cover to some students and some mock conducting perhaps reminiscent of the also-stressful drum major audition, she was hired.

“Two days later they said they wanted to offer me the job,” she said. “I was so happy. I just remember thinking that I get to be the band director.”

She said the band and orchestra members have grown from 12 in each one when she started in the 2023-24 school year to 22 and 40, respectively, this year. “I’ve had so much fun,” she said, adding that this her first time to direct a band.

Kelly said she has also grown in her appreciation for the school. In fact, ending up at an all-girls school was not what she once imagined, but she says she more clearly sees how God’s plan for her life has now come together. One could say this woman who still wears orange on Fridays has found her own Rocky Top here.

“The girls are amazing,” she said. “They are so wonderful and kind and funny and smart. They are their own true selves here, and I’m glad the orchestra and band can be a part of that.”

Many at the school are also aware of her pioneering role of yesteryear due to a speech about her drum major experiences she gave her first year for Women’s History Month.

“It was so well received,” she recalled. “I still hear about it today.”

by John Shearer

The foreboding admonition from the soothsayer in William Shakespeare’s play “Julius Caesar,” “Beware the Ides of March,” seems to have taken on yet another sinister layer of concern in recent years. Since the words were first written and performed (generally believed by historians to have been in 1599), they have become a familiar catchphrase warning of a looming catastrophe, something wicked lying ahead, and other, similar forecasts of doom.
​
So, what exactly are the ides of March? Julius Caesar created the “Julian” calendar, which consisted of four “long” months (March, May, July and October) each of which had 31 days. All the other months (considered “short” months) were made up of between 23 and 29 days. The Julian calendar was based upon the phases of the moon, of which there were three: The kalends, the nones and the ides. The kalends always occurred on the first day of each month, the nones on the fifth day of the shorter months or the seventh day of the longer months, and the ides were celebrated on the 13th or the 15th day during each of the four longer months.

There are varying opinions among historians as to whether the Julian calendar was based upon the phases of the moon or agriculture, on what days the kalends, nones and the ides were celebrated, as well as other bits of minutia which you might want to research yourself, in case Punxsutawney Phil (aka “The Groundhog”) saw his shadow on February 2 and scurried back into his underground den in shock for another six dark, cold weeks. Based on some of the frigid weather we’ve experienced thus far in 2026, quiet research in the warm comfort of one’s home sounds like a pretty good idea!

When Shakespeare penned “Julius Caesar,” England was at odds with most of Europe over its refusal to accept the Gregorian calendar (begun in 1582 utilized until 1752) over the Julian calendar.

It is generally accepted that the ides of March featured a full moon (seems that crazy things consistently expose themselves under the bright light of a full moon; again, there’s that familiar lunar connection with regard to the ides of March). The 15th of March also was a major festival honoring the might of the Roman military, thereby piling on even more drama to the untimely death of one of Rome’s greatest leaders.

Following Caesar’s execution in the Senate on that fateful 15th day of March, Rome was consumed in civil wars and the rise of Caesar’s adopted son, Octavian Augustus, who transformed the Republic into the beginning of Imperialism and the Roman Empire. From Shakespeare’s time till the present, this oft-repeated inauspicious phrase, the ides of March, “represents a warning against the dangers and possibilities of the concentrated power and the fragile path between popular rule and autocratic authority.”

And now we are in the month March, named to honor Mars, the Roman god of war. Ironically, March is the month from the Julian Calendar which brings with it a more pleasantly anticipated version of “March Madness.” Meanwhile, our magnificent nation is struggling. Not unlike the rise of the Roman Empire following Caesar’s execution and the civil unrest which followed, America is on the cusp of a potentially lethal downward spiral from history’s greatest country (warts and all) into something bearing little resemblance to the land that we have known and loved as it has evolved over the last 250 years. Our nation is teetering on the edge of a dangerous precipice, staring into a very dark abyss - our present-day ides of which we must beware. What has transpired throughout our country is a stark recognition of how deep and wide the chasm of our separation as fellow citizens has become.

Perhaps a beginning to the process of mending and healing the divisiveness under which we currently seem constantly to struggle just might be found in the words of author and spiritual teacher, Ram Dass. He and other artists, musicians and philosophers have also incorporated into their work a message of which we should all “be(a)ware” …

The wise ones know we’re in this together, and we’re all just walking each other home.

by Forde Kay

It’s still winter even though the hope of spring is in the air. Tree tips are swollen with buds about to burst, and shoots of bright green poke up out of dark brown earth.

We’re still wearing coats and gloves for the most part, so it’s hard to imagine sitting outside in the evening listening to music. But Reflection Riding’s Campfire Concert Series starts April 3 and runs through May 22. That last date is reserved for Tennessee Dead, a tribute band celebrating the music of the iconic Grateful Dead. Chances are if I’m familiar with the Grateful Dead, you are too.

Most of these concerts are on Friday evenings, but Randy Steele and the High Cold Wind takes the stage on April 25, a Saturday. You may know their music inside out, but I didn’t. The band is pretty new, formed in 2022. Called “high-energy and engaging,” the band skillfully plays instruments that include banjo, guitar, guitar, upright bass and more. Let’s just say it’s impossible to keep still and hard to stay blue when they are performing.

I went to my first Campfire Concert last summer, catching the very last one, a Phish tribute band. I don’t care if you are nuts about the music offered or not, this event is a very special and rare occasion. Reflection Riding is one of the most beautiful places on Earth, with views of the mountain range from picturesque fence-lined meadows and the wide open sky, all with the sun showing off as it sets. Really, just the opportunity to spend an evening watching the sky turn all shades of melon and pomegranate and settle into dusk as children run around playing tag and dancing and just scampering about in general is worth the price of admission.

Included in that admission is a beer or two from local brewery Hutton & Smith and as many s’mores as you want to eat. A blazing bonfire stays stoked and crackling, beckoning folks to gather around it and soak the whole experience in as the marshmallows turn a soft golden brown with the most delicate crust ever before being smashed between two graham crackers lined with Hershey’s chocolate. Wait! Let that chocolate melt a little from the hot marshmallow goo before taking your first bite.

Vendors are on site with food options, but you can bring your own picnic if you’d rather. Camping on that wide-open field is optional with a small up charge. (Imagine waking up to that sunrise!)

Bring a camp chair and maybe a blanket to stretch out on under the stars. And bring your kids or grandkids. No admission fee if they are under 12.

The Reflection Riding website states, “This series is a journey into the heart of what makes our community tick in a setting that’ll make your soul sing. As you tap your foot to the rhythm, you’re not just enjoying a show. You’re becoming part of our story. Every concert weaves you deeper into the fabric of our mission, connecting you to the land, the music, and the community we’re building together.

“So come on out, breathe in the fresh air, feel the music in your bones, and discover what happens when we combine the best of nature and culture. Each concert is an invitation to reflect, connect, and engage with both nature and our community. Join us as we harmonize conservation, education, and the arts, creating unforgettable evenings under the Tennessee sky.”

Sold.
Learn more at reflectionriding.org.
​
by Ferris Robinson

It never occurred to me to travel to witness part of the Walk for Peace, the 2,300 mile walk that Buddhist monks began last fall. The mission of this pilgrimage is not to solicit donations, and they do not carry signs or banners to make their point. There are no speeches or opinions, no protests or performances. In Buddhism, peace is not demanded from the world; it is embodied. They walk because the walking itself is the teaching. Mindful steps. Mindful breaths. Mindful intentions. We are witness to a profound practice.
The monks believe violence does not heal violence. Peace only begins when hatred is not fed and compassion becomes action.

It never occurred to me to drive to some place in Georgia to witness the Walk for Peace until I saw a Facebook post by Darin Wright, who said she jumped out of bed one morning and felt compelled to witness the walk; she went immediately because they were just getting further away. Inspired by her friend Jean Anne Gardner’s post about traveling to witness this, Darin posted, “Being in their presence was powerful even as they passed by. I truly wanted to follow.”

After witnessing the walk, Jean Anne shared her experience on social media, noting the unassuming, steady freely-given kindness of the monks and also the dog that travels with them, Aloka, a creature alert to the world but not disturbed by it.

“But what truly took my breath away were the people who came to meet them.

“The crowds were wide and diverse, children, old folks, families, people of different races, faiths, and languages. Some were curious, some reverent, some hopeful.

“I left reminded that peace is not an idea. It is an action. It is a choice. And sometimes, it looks like walking together toward something better, one step at a time.

“On an ordinary stretch of road, with monks and children and strangers offering flowers and open hands, it felt clear ...we are not lost ...we are, even now, still on the road to Good Hope,” she posted.

Timothy Thompson, (HEMP the artist) is a photojournalist following and documenting the walk from Alabama. He agreed to share this post with the Mountain Mirror.

“I’ve been trying to find the right words for what I witnessed, because “a group of monks walked past” doesn’t even touch it.

“This is the Walk for Peace, a 2,300-mile pilgrimage on foot from Fort Worth, Texas, to Washington, D.C. It began October 26, 2025, and it’s expected to take around 120 days as they move through about 10 states with one simple mission: carry peace into public space, not as a slogan, but as a practice.

“And what made it hit me the hardest is where I caught them.

“McDonald’s. Waffle House. Power lines. Traffic. The usual American rush. The kind of scenery that tells your brain “hurry up, consume, keep moving.” Then here comes this line of discipline and devotion, robes moving like a quiet river through the loudest kind of modern backdrop. It felt like a reminder that peace doesn’t need perfect conditions. Peace is supposed to be strong enough to walk straight through the middle of our distractions.

“They aren’t doing this as a show. They walk with intention, and people are watching because it’s rare to see that kind of consistency. Thousands have been following them online, and when they enter a town, you can feel the atmosphere change because everyone instinctively knows this is bigger than a photo.

“If you’ve been keeping up with their story, you also know this isn’t a soft journey. In November, near Dayton, Texas, a truck hit their escort vehicle and it struck the monks, injuring multiple people. One monk suffered severe injuries and later had his leg amputated. And even with that pain and disruption, the walk has continued. That part matters, because it proves the message. Peace isn’t fragile. Peace is resilient.

“And then there’s Aloka, the dog walking with them, moving like a symbol of loyalty and gentleness alongside the whole pilgrimage. Something about that dog being right there in the formation makes the whole thing feel even more human, even more grounded.

“As the photographer, my goal wasn’t to interrupt them. I wanted to honor their pace, their route, their quiet. So I stayed out of the way and let the moment be what it was, while still capturing it for people who weren’t there and for the people who were there but didn’t realize they were watching history in real time.

“If you saw them, too, tell me where you were standing and what you felt. And if you didn’t, let these images remind you that peace is not a mood. Peace is movement. Peace is repetition. Peace is choosing your inner posture even when the world stays loud.”

I wish it had occurred to me to get in the car and drive to wherever they were. Because it was something I needed to see.
​
by Ferris Robinson

Lena and Jeff Levendoski were unaware of the need for clothing for newborns. After all, their nursery was complete with drawers full of precious monogramed onsies and soft organic cotton swaddles and blankets edged in pale blue satin. They were so excited to bring their baby boy home from the hospital, and they were prepared to welcome and celebrate his safe delivery. They had been planning his arrival for months!
​
Two weeks before he was due, in July 2007, they happily headed to the hospital to hear his heartbeat in utero, one of the last times before he was delivered. But his heart was still. Not beating. And they slowly realized their son Strick, named for Lena’s beloved late grandfather Strick Strickland, was not coming home. Instead, they planned his burial.

Grieving. Devastated. Bereft. The couple was given no explanation as to why their first child had died.

“Things happen,” Lena said, understanding life does not always go your way.

As the couple began to heal, Lena remembers driving over Monteagle Mountain. She and her husband had been thinking of a way to honor their son’s memory. Attuned, to the fact that a healthy birth is not a given, they both believe that all children who are born should be celebrated because it is absolutely a miracle that these beautiful children arrive safely. She got the idea for the foundation before they started up the mountain, and by the time they reached the bottom, “Strick’s Gift” was complete.

Strick’s Gift is a gift of clothing and blankets to celebrate and welcome newborns in need. Typically, there are 20 to 30 pieces of clothing, a blanket and maybe a few other items collected and packed in a cute canvas tote. Half of the clothes are gently used, donated by the community, and the other half are new, purchased with grants awarded or monetary donations.  

At first glance this may sound like simply a lovely gesture. After all, don’t most newborns receive all manner of precious baby things?

The truth is that they all do not. Almost half of them.

“When we began, we did not know the extent of the need until we approached the hospitals with this idea in 2008. It turns out, there is a staggering need for clothing for newborns,” Lena said.

Strick’s Gift serves four hospitals in Nashville and Erlanger in Chattanooga. This is a gift and cannot be mistaken as a handout. The adorable canvas bags, filled with sweet baby things that are lovingly wrapped in pastel tissue paper, are stamped with a logo and serve as a beautiful welcome gesture. And these gifts are appreciated.

“I met a new dad in a parking garage once outside of a hospital in Nashville. Admittedly, I was wary of this man approaching me in a semi-dark parking garage. However, it turned out he was a new dad, and he and his wife had just received a Strick’s Gift bag. He said that he’d recently lost his job, the baby came sooner than they expected, and they weren’t prepared. He said that as his wife went through the bag of clothing, she cried at every piece. It was a wonderful encounter that I will never forget,” Lena said.

The couple began this organization when they were barely a year into their profound grief. Explaining their plan made them relive their loss all over again. And again.

“We found ourselves talking about what happened a lot. I guess ultimately that was helpful but emotionally draining for sure,” Lena said.

But their effort to help others was a way to heal.  

“Grief requires a tremendous amount of energy. What I have learned is that giving, community service, and helping in any form can replenish the energy of the broken hearted, the lonely, the grieving the depressed - you name it. Serving others is a powerful anecdote,” Lena said.  

The card attached to the bags the child receives reads, “Welcome to the World, From one Angel to Another.”
What a lovely way to begin.

by Ferris Robinson

​I’d do anything if I could change what I’m doing on October 18. I wish it was going to be just another run-of-the mill day. A day of puttering about, and not getting much of anything done. Nothing special. Nothing memorable. Nothing painful.
​
Cammy Robinson would have been 46 years old this year. She probably would be married, and maybe sending her children off to school. Her parents might be heading over to watch the football game at her house, or even babysitting for her. Her brother might be texting her about coming to see him for a visit. Her cousins would undoubtedly be in touch about her weekend plans.

Instead, they are all congregating at Coolidge Park to walk in her memory. Without her.

I know all of Cammy’s people, her family and friends, would give anything not to be getting up early and lacing up their tennis shoes in a couple of weeks. People coming out to offer their support, and fight this disease, wish this was not something they need to do. But the idea of her death being in vain is not an option.

Cammy Robinson had blond hair and almond-shaped eyes the color of the sea. She was inquisitive and loving and delightful. She was fascinated by lady bugs, and she had a sharp, quick wit. She was a beautiful girl. But, as a little girl, she was not skinny.

In junior high, she was suddenly not included in her clique. High school is tough enough, but she felt completely alone. She ate to feel better. For comfort.

She got heavier. Her senior year, she wasn’t asked to the prom. She believed it was because of her weight, and she decided to do something about it. In college, she began purging, or making herself throw up after eating. And then she barely ate enough to sustain herself. And then she would overeat and purge, in the thick of a vicious cycle.

She was thin when she came home from College of Charleston for Thanksgiving. She had cheekbones, and tiny jeans. You look great! Ooooh, you’re so thin! Keep it up! We all said these things to her. Repeatedly. We didn’t know.

This process of purging and overeating and starvation, all in the name of losing weight, affected her electrolytes. Electrolytes control the heart, causing it to beat regularly, and hers were off kilter because of the eating disorder.

Her junior year in college, when she should have been deciding what fraternity party to go to or what she was going to do for fun that weekend or what outfit she should wear, Cammy Robinson went into cardiac arrest.

Anorexia and bulimia are insidious. Unlike an infectious disease, or cancer, there’s no medicine to cure it. Unlike alcoholism, there’s no abstinence from eating. Food is something we must consume.

Cammy Robinson’s heart stopped beating for the last time when she was 26 years old. It had sustained too much damage from the ravages of the eating disorders.

Her parents wish they’d been more educated about it. They wish they could have seen it coming when she still had a chance. They know now that the earlier an eating disorder is diagnosed and treated, the better the chance of survival.

The MCR Foundation, founded by Jan Robinson, Cammy’s mother, and Ashley Yates, Cammy’s best friend, provides resources for people affected by eating disorders.  Education and early intervention are so important, and for 20 years, the MCR Foundation has been making a difference. Doing good.

Still. I know her family wishes it never existed.

Please join the 20th annual 5K Walk/Run for Cammy’s Cause on Saturday, October 18, at Ross’s Landing. Check in/registration opens and 7:30 a.m. with the race beginning at 8:30 a.m. Kid-friendly, the bounce house, face paint, costume contest (for kids of all ages) and a mutt strut, Cammy’s Cause is not to be missed!

Learn more at www.mcrfoundation.com.

by Ferris Robinson

Saturday, September 13, Coolidge Park will be bustling with booths participating in an event entitled Unity on the Bridge Recovery Fest. Originally, when several recovery-focused organizations combined to raise public awareness about addiction, they held the event on the Walnut Street Bridge and opened it by holding hands and saying the Serenity Prayer as a blessing for our entire city. Now in its sixth year, this is the largest recovery event in central Tennessee. Its aim is to provide information about the resources available to help both sufferers of addiction and their families.

For much too long, suffering from alcoholism was considered a disgrace. Well into the 20th century, it was a closely guarded secret, hidden and denied by individuals and their families for as long as possible. Both the disease itself and the stigma attached to it destroyed reputations and lives, often irreparably. Add to this, abuse of drugs has resulted in a problem that has affected an estimated 32% of American families, a number that continues to grow every year.

The oldest recovery program is the 12 Step program, Alcoholics Anonymous. Known globally now as AA, it was created by Bill Wilson and Dr. Bob Smith in 1935. They worked together, talking to each other about their difficulties in becoming and remaining sober and inviting others struggling with the same issues to join them. Amazingly, the process worked. They found that sharing their problems helped them find sobriety, and today, there are 123,000 AA groups around the world.

In 1939, the “Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous” was published outlining the 12 Steps, which the founders believed would arrest the disease and serve as a pattern of living that could create a healthy future if one were willing to “work the program.” Millions of people since then have found this to be true. In fact, the AA program has made such an impact that Bill Wilson (Dr. Bob died in 1950) was named as one of Time magazine’s Most Important People of the 20th century.

While Bill and other alcoholics were meeting in their home, Bill’s wife, Lois, was becoming aware of just how much his alcoholism had affected her and their whole family. Lois began inviting the wives to come into her kitchen and share their experience while their husbands met in the parlor. At the same time, Dr. Bob’s wife, Anne, was doing the same thing in their Akron, Ohio, home. From these humble beginnings a program designed to help families of alcoholics, called Al-Anon, was born.  Today, there are more than 24,000 Al-Anon groups in 133 countries. Later, Alateen was developed as a part of Al-Anon, specifically for teenage children of alcoholics.

Al-Anon is built on the same steps and principles as AA but has a different focus: the idea that addiction is a family disease. It can affect everyone in the family - materially, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. The Al-Anon/Alateen focus is on those also affected rather than on the addict. They share their own experiences, the common problems that families deal with when living with their loved ones’ addiction. Most importantly, they learn what they can do for themselves to recover from those effects. From these two programs, other groups with focus on specific issues, such as Overeaters Anonymous (OA), Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACA), and Families Anonymous (FA), have begun, following the same principles and steps.

Unity on the Bridge is held to “embrace recovery for those who battle substance abuse disorder,” officials [of the event] said. “This is a day of coming together and celebrating recovery as we fight to save so many lives.”

It will be held from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. with dozens of organizations sharing information on recovery, housing, and mental health services, along with speakers, live music, food trucks, and a talent competition with cash prizes. Everyone is welcome. Sammie Hartman, chairman in 2024, said that the goal “is to make sure that not one single person goes [away] without the knowledge that recovery is possible …”
​
by Carol Lannon