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The Drum Major’s whistle blew. Forward march.
Left. Left. Left, Right, Left, Uh-huh.
The blue polyester pants, white shirt, and hat complete with plume might not have been something to get excited about, but being part of the marching band was.
The notes coming from my flute were not something to advertise, but band geeks were.
Dad drove me down from our family vacation in the Sierras so I wouldn’t miss a day of Band Camp before school started. And back up the mountains afterwards.
Left. Left. Left, Right, Left, Uh-huh.
Marching and competing in parades in the seventh grade.
Moving just before the eighth grade to a Middle School with no Marching Band, where the lack of close knit band geeks could be felt.
Began marching again in high school. Marching in Half Time shows. Marching on Main Street in Disneyland, once a year.
Left. Left. Left, Right, Left, Uh-huh.
The school colors, red and black, were a step up, but the polyester flare kick pants were not.
The notes blowing through my flute still weren’t anything exciting. Practice might have helped with that. Novel concept. But, Marching Band coloring high school memories was.
Not much of a joiner in high school, Marching Band helped me stay in step.
Left. Left. Left, Right, Left, Uh-huh.
The Drum Major’s whistle blew. Forward march.
Left. Left. Left, Right, Left, Uh-huh.
The blue polyester pants, white shirt, and hat complete with plume might not have been something to get excited about, but being part of the marching band was.
The notes coming from my flute were not something to advertise, but band geeks were.
Dad drove me down from our family vacation in the Sierras so I wouldn’t miss a day of Band Camp before school started. And back up the mountains afterwards.
Left. Left. Left, Right, Left, Uh-huh.
Marching and competing in parades in the seventh grade.
Moving just before the eighth grade to a Middle School with no Marching Band, where the lack of close knit band geeks could be felt.
Began marching again in high school. Marching in Half Time shows. Marching on Main Street in Disneyland, once a year.
Left. Left. Left, Right, Left, Uh-huh.
The school colors, red and black, were a step up, but the polyester flare kick pants were not.
The notes blowing through my flute still weren’t anything exciting. Practice might have helped with that. Novel concept. But, Marching Band coloring high school memories was.
Not much of a joiner in high school, Marching Band helped me stay in step.
Left. Left. Left, Right, Left, Uh-huh.
Natalie of Mama Track, is guest hosting this week's RemembeRED prompt "to write about a time that rhythm, or a lack thereof, played a role in your life. And don’t use the word 'rhythm'" at The Red Dress Club.My mind immediately marked in double time to my five years of Marching Band at two schools. Did you feel the rhythm?
Did you play an instrument as a kidlet? Do you play one as an adult?
This makes me regret not participating in band as a kid. Actually, that was out of my control because until high school non of my schools ever had a band. But I can still regret.
ReplyDeleteI wish I could connect...but I never had this talent. But it reminds me of my husband's stories. He plays the French Horn.
ReplyDeleteLove your use of sound in this piece!
"Not much of a joiner in high school, Marching Band helped me stay in step." Great line! I wasn't ever much of a joiner myself...something like marching band might have helped me keep pace a little better.
ReplyDeleteGreat response to the prompt...the rhythm of the drum major keeping time through your journey through the band years was perfect!
I did feel the beat throughout the post! It was great.
ReplyDeleteAnd I loved how you expressed what we all looked for in high school--a sense of belonging. It's a universal but you told us the story in your own novel way.
oh how well I know that! I was on Color Guard in HS. that is a rhythm in my bones. :)
ReplyDeleteI was in chorus but not band. I always wanted to learn to play an instrument and marching band looked like fun. Great post for Rhythm.
ReplyDeleteMy husband was in marching band- so i get this from the outside. But wow did you ever capture rhythm and music and all that is good about joining even for non-joiners like you and me! :)
ReplyDeleteI never did play an instrument in school. I played drums at home and tried to learn guitar but all I ever learned to play was "wipeout"
ReplyDeleteYou made Marching Band sound like so much fun, I am always amazed at how wonderful it looks!
Ok so don't know what happened to my comment, but I said I never did play an instrument in school. I played drums at home and always wanted to play guitar but only learned to play "wipeout"
ReplyDeleteYou made marching band seem like so much fun, I am always so amazed with how wonderful it looks and sounds!
Fun, FUN, Kare! Loved our arching BAND-uh, in college! SUCH a lively part of our sporting events - REALLY made the experience come to life! FANTASTIC stream of writing, imagery, et al! xoxo!
ReplyDeleteLoved reading this. It brought back so many memories. I was in band in junior high and marched in the Memorial Day Parade in my town, playing the bell lyre. My daughter was in marching band in high school, and I remember getting her to band camp each summer and early morning practices during the school year. Since she played the oboe, she had to play the cymbals during marching season. She was a little bitty thing, and those cymbals were darn heavy. Enjoyed your writing.
ReplyDelete