The Marching Band Takes The Field
September offers some of the most delightful gifts of the year. Evenings hint a cooler breeze. Sunflowers rise towards the skies with strength and poise. Fresh picked apples, dressed with cinnamon sugar await the perfect date with a butter flaked pie dough. My brother, who’s pretty great, has a birthday in September; and it’s also the annual home to Grandparents’ Day which gives me abundant joy. For all you football fans, well, we need not say any more.
What I’d most like to celebrate this September, however, is the Marching Band. Yes, that’s right. I can’t think of a more American iconic concept than to experience classic tunes performed by students with instruments marching in formational sync. No one person or instrument can do it alone. Rather, it’s the ensemble that creates the magic. My husband and I live within audible distance of the Centerville High School campus. Every Friday night in September and beyond, we hear the marching band from afar and it’s proud rendition of familiar tunes. Flanked by waving color guard flags and white boot kicking dance teams, the collaborative performances are nothing short of delightful.
My neighbor is a Freshman in high school and plays the saxophone in her school marching band. I recently asked her how she and her band mates did it. Marching musicians make the art of multitasking look easy. Think about it. Remembering notes to a song and subsequently marching so precisely that you aren’t fazed when the big tuba is poised to ram into you only to make a sudden 90 degree turn as the flutes take over the refrain for “Sweet Caroline” is nothing short of amazing. I mean, if you had asked me to hold an instrument upright, play a song in tandem with someone 40 yards away, and march in a straight line all at the same time, disaster would’ve been inevitable. There’s no question I’d be the one to literally run into the person in front of me. Having constant awareness of marching neighbors with depth perception obstructed by a French Horn leaves me in awe.
My neighbor, when asked how she did it, shrugged unfazed. “We just keep practicing.” Hence, herein lies the beauty of the band. When innocence meets camaraderie, and practice meets determination all wrapped up with a bit of fun; magic happens for those of us sitting in the metal bleachers or in our case, listening from our porch.
I get the focus on the game. Team stats, school rivalries, and vicarious joys of touchdown passes are all a pivotal part of the game day experience. Anticipating a Friday night game pumps the adrenalin. But let’s not forget the diamond in the rough of the whole experience. Once half time comes, and the proud band marches onto the field, no matter what the score of the game, people are offered a respite from who is ahead or who missed the pass. Entertainment reigns. Sparkle and effervescence flood the field, and for a few minutes, enjoyment draws all fans into the show that combines rhythm with attitude.
Other than perhaps Broadway or festivals with cotton candy, the Marching Band is one of America’s greatest offerings to the world. For all you band members who’re gearing up for this weekend’s game, I hope you experience transcending joy as you overtake the field. Have fun, and know you have a multitude of fans in the stands. Along with many others, I’ll be tapping my toes and taking in the entire expanse of your attraction as you proudly strut your stuff.
Photo by Curioso Photography on Unsplash