on marching bands of yesteryear
Apr. 25th, 2006 08:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbard*sniff* Every couple months I go back to the EHS band webpage and look at the marching pictures (summer of 2003 -- the summer before my eighth grade year -- and summer of 2005 -- last year). And I just get...really emotional. I mean, here's all these people, some of whom I know, some of whom I don't. Some of whom are graduated now, some of whom have long since quit band, some of whom have recently quit band, some of whom I just don't know, some of whom have moved, some of whom are still here. And it's just -- it seems like such a long time ago, but at the same time it seems like just yesterday.
The first year I did marching band, I was about to go into my eighth grade year (2005-2004) and I was thirteen. I played flute. I remember going to the band room at the old high school really tentatively, because it was so easy to get lost in that maze of passageways. Passageways, literally, because the old high school was a bunch of different buildings connected by covered paths. The piece we played was "Gospel John." The new high school was just a concept then. I remember gathering with the other eighth graders in a little scared huddle, and there weren't many of us -- Lauren on piccolo, Ellora on trombone, Becky on clarinet (and Kim on flute, but we were never friends). The drum majors were Ivan and Rachel. We did happy jacks to warm up. I had the worst posture in the world. I loved it.
The second year I did marching band, I was about to become a freshman (2004-2005) and I was fourteen. I played flute. We were still at the old high school (we'd move into the new one in January) and I was smug because I already knew how to march. I marched in a rank of flutes and piccolos -- guide left for the first half of practice before May moved me next to guide right. The two guide lefts in front of me were never there, so turning was pure hell. They were brothers -- Michael and David, a senior and a freshman, and both marched drumline. Well, Michael didn't march a drum that year, but he was a drummer. I was in Mandy's rank and she threatened us with death if we put one step out of line. She wanted our rank -- her rank -- to win. She was a junior that year. The piece was "Go Johnny Go." There was half a rank of altos behind us -- David (a different one), who graduated that year; Thomas, who quit last year; and Nick, who's still here. The drum majors were Colin and Kelli. May told me I had a "good hairflip" at a dress right. I yelled "Freshman Pride!" at every drilldown. I loved it.
The third year I did marching band, I was about to become a sophomore (2005-2006) and I was fifteen. I played bari. It was our first year at the new high school (the old high school had been bulldozed and built over). I showed up to the three days of rookie training because I had nothing better to do (and I loved marching) and won my first drilldown. The first day I marched my bari, I woke up the next morning so sore I could hardly move. I marched in a rank of bass instruments -- a bari on either end (I was guide left) two tubas (nearer Birkin than me) and a bass drummer. He scared me to death everytime we had to compress; I was terrified he'd knock me out with his mallet. I wore sweatshirts almost the whole three weeks (the harness I had had no padding and didn't move; I had to lift the whole bari every time I moved from carriage position to playing position). Three days before the Parade, my harness broke. My bari went into the parents' truck; I marched the rest of the route without an instrument. The piece we played was "Get Ready." We only had one drum major, Colin (he quit). We lost the parade. I loved it.
The fourth year I'll do marching, I'll be about to become a junior (2006-2007) and I'll be sixteen. I'll play bari. It will be our second year at the new high school (there's a soccer field where the old high school band room used to be). I'll march in a bass rank (probably bracketing the tubas again). I won't complain. I won't back down. I won't disgrace my school. We'll have two drum majors, Joey and an unkown. We'll win the parade. I'll love it.
The first year I did marching band, I was about to go into my eighth grade year (2005-2004) and I was thirteen. I played flute. I remember going to the band room at the old high school really tentatively, because it was so easy to get lost in that maze of passageways. Passageways, literally, because the old high school was a bunch of different buildings connected by covered paths. The piece we played was "Gospel John." The new high school was just a concept then. I remember gathering with the other eighth graders in a little scared huddle, and there weren't many of us -- Lauren on piccolo, Ellora on trombone, Becky on clarinet (and Kim on flute, but we were never friends). The drum majors were Ivan and Rachel. We did happy jacks to warm up. I had the worst posture in the world. I loved it.
The second year I did marching band, I was about to become a freshman (2004-2005) and I was fourteen. I played flute. We were still at the old high school (we'd move into the new one in January) and I was smug because I already knew how to march. I marched in a rank of flutes and piccolos -- guide left for the first half of practice before May moved me next to guide right. The two guide lefts in front of me were never there, so turning was pure hell. They were brothers -- Michael and David, a senior and a freshman, and both marched drumline. Well, Michael didn't march a drum that year, but he was a drummer. I was in Mandy's rank and she threatened us with death if we put one step out of line. She wanted our rank -- her rank -- to win. She was a junior that year. The piece was "Go Johnny Go." There was half a rank of altos behind us -- David (a different one), who graduated that year; Thomas, who quit last year; and Nick, who's still here. The drum majors were Colin and Kelli. May told me I had a "good hairflip" at a dress right. I yelled "Freshman Pride!" at every drilldown. I loved it.
The third year I did marching band, I was about to become a sophomore (2005-2006) and I was fifteen. I played bari. It was our first year at the new high school (the old high school had been bulldozed and built over). I showed up to the three days of rookie training because I had nothing better to do (and I loved marching) and won my first drilldown. The first day I marched my bari, I woke up the next morning so sore I could hardly move. I marched in a rank of bass instruments -- a bari on either end (I was guide left) two tubas (nearer Birkin than me) and a bass drummer. He scared me to death everytime we had to compress; I was terrified he'd knock me out with his mallet. I wore sweatshirts almost the whole three weeks (the harness I had had no padding and didn't move; I had to lift the whole bari every time I moved from carriage position to playing position). Three days before the Parade, my harness broke. My bari went into the parents' truck; I marched the rest of the route without an instrument. The piece we played was "Get Ready." We only had one drum major, Colin (he quit). We lost the parade. I loved it.
The fourth year I'll do marching, I'll be about to become a junior (2006-2007) and I'll be sixteen. I'll play bari. It will be our second year at the new high school (there's a soccer field where the old high school band room used to be). I'll march in a bass rank (probably bracketing the tubas again). I won't complain. I won't back down. I won't disgrace my school. We'll have two drum majors, Joey and an unkown. We'll win the parade. I'll love it.