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.
