Marching Band Memories
It’s marching band season here! Marching band is big in Indiana; we’re well-known for having pretty much the nation’s best marching bands (yeah, I know we Hoosiers are famous for basketball too, but since I’m not into sports, don’t expect a post on that topic anytime soon). And my two oldest girls just happen to be part of their high school band, which just happens to have been the #1 class A band in 2011 and #2 in 2012.
So it was fun to come across this photo in an old album the other day.
But all was not unicorns and rainbows when I was in marching band. I never wanted to march. I played oboe, and oboes could not march (I suppose that had to do with the oboe’s reed dangerously protruding from the instrument?) So, oboes were consigned to the flag corps. In those days, or perhaps I should say in my opinion, flag corp was not the happenin’ place to be. For sure, it was full of girls who felt quite proud of their affiliation with the flags. But to me, spending hours gripping a flag was not too stimulating. At all.
One year, a fellow oboist and I gathered up our courage and went to meet with the band director, asking if we could possibly be allowed to skip marching season all together. As I recall, he smiled and chuckled as he shook his head NO. My friend ended up being a drum major, I ended up … twirling the flags for 4 years. There was some drama: two boys decided they wanted to join flags. BOYS, I tell you! The scandal! We girls whispered back and forth — would they be required, as we were, to wear panty hose? Oh, it was gripping!
Here you can see me dutifully posing on the family porch in my uniform. I did think those boots were pretty cool. Check out the pom poms — oh yeah!
So, how about you? Any marching band memories?