Friday, May 2, 2014

But I’m with the band!

To cement my popularity and social status as a high school sophomore, 
I joined the marching band. 

Consider for a moment that for years I was forced to take piano lessons.  
It was an activity I absolutely hated, 
rivaled only by my loathing for mandatory church attendance. 

I have no ear for music 
 the curriculum involved music that was primarily appreciated by
dead white dudes.

When I started junior high, 
I was allowed to choose the instrument of torture, 
with the exception of drums 
any other really cool instrument that could bridge to a garage band.  

I picked the flute 
primarily because it was small and could be easily toted
 while walking home
 in most weather conditions. 

What I should have done was chosen the Theremin! 
(Yes, it is a real thing!) 

Once I turned 16
 I was free to drop the pretense of instrument competence, 
which was done posthaste.  

This would have ended my jaunt into marching band participation 
 I did, briefly
 join the University marching band color guard
 where I solidified my inability
 to participate in any precision activity.   

for the better part of the summer, 
I watched bands and color guards 
from different areas do their thing.  

We didn’t have the military dedication 
for complete precision 
nor did we have anything unique and joyous in the performance, 

but my appreciation for those groups that do
 is much greater now than it would have been. 
(I'm sure this the goal most college Freshman hope to achieve, 
appreciation of the drum line.) 

If you want to know why, 
in a family with six kids 
 approximately 15,000 hours of combined musical practice time
 we are not the next Osmond family dynasty, 
here is a bit more to the story: 

Montana, my oldest, marching band and the bass drum. Too Easy

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