Band Days

We had it all. Snazzy performing duds, tour busses, groupies. We played chart topping songs that everyone knew and could sing along to if they wished. Fans gave us raucous standing ovations. We even had the honor of performing the National Anthem before sporting events. Battle of the Bands? Child’s play as we won them easily. For four autumns we owned it and our awards backed us up. That’s right, I was in a band. You may have heard recent performances from that bad but now; it’s just a shell of the glory days and has been since I left (at least in my eyes – LOL). I stayed until my proceeds allowed me to move on to something bigger and better.

Oh, yeah! I was a member of the Marching Stars.

Our snazzy performing duds? 100% wool uniforms with these Kaiser-like helmets. They were brand new for us but on a hot autumn day the last thing we wanted to wear was WOOL! Tour busses? Yup, yellow un-air conditioned school busses with not a shock absorber to be found. Groupies? Friends and parents. Chart topping songs? “Send in the Clowns” and my favorite (we performed it my freshman and senior years and it was shiver-inducing when we hit the crescendo at the end in one big line) “Georgia on my Mind.” There were other songs but those two stuck out for me along with one from Holst’s The Planets (can’t remember which – Mars or Saturn). That National Anthem? My high school’s home football games (we opened with “Also Sprach Zarathustra” right before the Anthem and it was COOL!). We won competitions like Corn Days (or was it Coyote Days?) and the awards were for state competition. The best part were our fans (read – fellow schoolmates) who would give us a standing ovation (read - they were already standing because who sits at football games?) as we marched in formation off the field after halftime and back to the stands (we rocked “Louie Louie”). The raucous (read – probably a bit tipsy) reception was lovely but we reveled in their reaction anyway (read – we were band geeks and that’s the only time we felt cool).

We put a lot of work into our marching band days starting in early August before school even began and almost before the sun rose. Our early morning practices could be heard on the northside of town (and not always welcomed by those who wanted to sleep in). We went from summer heat to practicing in snow and with gloves on, if possible. And then there were the stairs. Our high school sits on a hill and to get to the practice football field we needed to walk down 97 steps and at the end of our practice, back up them. As a flute player it wasn’t too bad but I felt for the percussionists who hauled down the tympanis, xylophones, etc.

We were athletes learning special steps like the ‘Hi, Mom’, high step, or the crouched run we would use during the percussion break (“Tico Tico”, I believe). The field lines and hash marks needed to be observed and in those early practices we studied field formations that looked a lot like football plays. Band members probably had the best posture around as slouching during competition was frowned on. We took criticism from our band director and instead of getting all pissy from it like so many of today’s youth, we improved with it.

Mr. K was our Gordon Ramsey. A yeller, he even had an electronic megaphone so he could instruct us from the top of the hill when his voice gave out. He used his voice to help us and not to make us feel bad. He wanted us to improve and we rose to his challenge. Mr. K was intimidating but I found myself working harder to meet his expectations. Of all my teachers during my public education, he is one of only two that I have truly fond memories of. He had the habit of mispronouncing my name practically from day one and continued it all four years. Only once did he not kid with my name and that was when I returned to school after my dad died.

I write this with tears in my eyes because those were the good ol’ days before adult problems and cancer and the bad, gray days. Of course, if I knew then what I know now, I would have done everything in my power to slow those days down to fend off the future for just a few more moments. I left when I earned my proceeds – my high school diploma – and with that I went to college.

I am proud to be a Marching Stars alumnus.