An experience in the band, a coelo usque ad centrum

Friday and Saturday were both very long band days. Although I was hot, tired, and sore by yesterday afternoon ( playing quints rarely makes me sore these days), these beautiful days of music-ness remind a person that they are alive like little else. There is no event quite like a Friday in the Fall, when the leaves start to turn orange and red, a cool breeze blows the subtle scent of pumpkin through the air, and marching band is on the mind. I would be the first to admit that I am not the only person who looks forward to Fridays. Though most simply want to sleep in, I am a person who doesn't hope for Friday because it is pizza day, or because the day after it is Saturday, or because the day after that is Sunday. No, Friday is my day because it is game day. Because it is my day to wear a red band shirt, put on that funny looking hat and white feather plume, to take the field cast in halogen light under the banner of Meadville. One thing I can appreciate about the band it something we have that nobody else has. We have the singular ability to bring down the house, no matter what the weather, who the opponent, or which side the coin may land on. Balls may be dropped, games are won and lost, but the Marching Band always controls the field. And nobody of any skill, no group of any size, no well-funded program or well-paid coaching staff can take that away from us. I hope our team goes to playoffs. Its not looking quite as good now as it did when we were 4-0, but it can certainly still happen. I am sure that it'll be worth the extra practices and slightly longer time commitment to show up at one or two extra games and rally our team, who will quite possibly be the underdogs. Not to mention, the massive scheduling conflicts that the postseason games would involve. So be sure to listen for the drums on Friday night, the eternal heartbeat of the dedicated band geeks who make it worth the 3 dollar entrance fee.