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
and
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
or
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
but
I did, briefly
join the University marching band color guard
where I solidified my inability
to participate in any precision activity.
However,
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
and
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:
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