Band Camp
While I was taking the dog out for his first walk Monday morning I could hear, wafting over the neighborhood, the faint sound of a trumpeter playing scales coming from the high school. Time for Band Camp! If somebody had kicked in with the timbales at about that time I would have had to have grabbed my trombone and headed over, heedless of the fact that I've more than used up my high school band eligibility.Band Camp - hazing sophomores (we had three-year high school, so they were the lowest of the low), laughing at the weaklings passing out from standing at parade rest for ten minutes in the 98 degree heat, learning the marching band arrangements of classics like Rikki Don't Lose That Number and Stevie Wonder's Sir Duke (and the inevitable Eli's Coming), teaching the new kids the obscene cheers that we'd learned from the seniors when we were sophomores and realizing that once again the football team was going to be so bad that the only thing that was going to put people in the stands was us. And we did.
4 Comments:
Have you ever listened to the radio show "This American Life"? Sarah Vowell does an amazing essay about what being in marching band taught her -- if you've never heard it, let me know and I'll send you the link.
m.
mg - I've heard the show but not the specific one you're referring to - a link would be great!
Lex - hell, I wouldn't know. I had almost zero contact with anyone from the footsball team. But indeed we did have awesome parties!
At CHHS, the best parties were given by either the cross-country team or the soccer team--or, on one memorable occasion, when they decided to throw one together and play a massive game of quarter-bounce to see who was the dominant squadron.
It was close, but I think the CC team (behind captains Frank "Skeeter" Heath and David "Nick" Herion) won in the end.
Frank's nickname is "Skeeter"? SKEETER? Oh. Deer. Lard.
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