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Thursday, September 11, 2008
Resume, hut!
7:27 PM | 
Posted by
Christine
A came home from school today and informed me that he needs a lyre and a flip folder before next Tuesday.
If that leaves you saying, "Huh?" then you may want to just quit here.
If it hits you that on Tuesday, the junior high band is going to start marching in practice for a parade, then I'm sure you'll understand just how blown away I am. The next generation is starting to march. (Jonathan, you were right. You were so, so right.)
I remember being in the Leary Junior High Band in Massena, New York, and trying to get the hang of marching through the streets of my neighborhood for the first time. Mr Rotunde, the band director, had this obnoxious whistle, which he would use to mark time and get us going. Two long whistles on one and three, and then four short counts of a full measure. Then we were off, tripping and stumbling, trying to figure out which foot we were supposed to be on. We played the national anthem and the high school fight song. Kinda. At least slightly reasonable facsimiles thereof. If you listened closely.
Old people and women with little kids would stand in their driveways and watch us march by. My mom could hear us from our house - sometimes she would walk a few blocks to see me play (all hunched over and trying to keep an eye on both the person in front of me and my feet). She would wave, smile, and sometimes cry just a little bit...I never could figure out why. It didn't seem like it was such a big deal.
Now I know. It's a rite of passage. One more sign that my baby, well...isn't a baby anymore. His first parade is on the 20th, and his dad and I will stand on the curb watching just like our parents did. I'll probably cry a little bit too, and A won't understand why.
He'll be too busy trying not to crash into the kid in front of him.
If that leaves you saying, "Huh?" then you may want to just quit here.
If it hits you that on Tuesday, the junior high band is going to start marching in practice for a parade, then I'm sure you'll understand just how blown away I am. The next generation is starting to march. (Jonathan, you were right. You were so, so right.)
I remember being in the Leary Junior High Band in Massena, New York, and trying to get the hang of marching through the streets of my neighborhood for the first time. Mr Rotunde, the band director, had this obnoxious whistle, which he would use to mark time and get us going. Two long whistles on one and three, and then four short counts of a full measure. Then we were off, tripping and stumbling, trying to figure out which foot we were supposed to be on. We played the national anthem and the high school fight song. Kinda. At least slightly reasonable facsimiles thereof. If you listened closely.
Old people and women with little kids would stand in their driveways and watch us march by. My mom could hear us from our house - sometimes she would walk a few blocks to see me play (all hunched over and trying to keep an eye on both the person in front of me and my feet). She would wave, smile, and sometimes cry just a little bit...I never could figure out why. It didn't seem like it was such a big deal.
Now I know. It's a rite of passage. One more sign that my baby, well...isn't a baby anymore. His first parade is on the 20th, and his dad and I will stand on the curb watching just like our parents did. I'll probably cry a little bit too, and A won't understand why.
He'll be too busy trying not to crash into the kid in front of him.
2 comments:
Good times, good times. When's basics camp this year?
WF
I think we have to wait until high school for that. Don't rush it, man!!