There’s nothing better than a good marching band. A group of 100+ musicians playing great music in perfect synchronization is a sight to behold.
In school, I was heavily involved in band, which was one of the defining activities that made me as disciplined as I am today. I can remember many Saturday mornings marching at football game half-times, in a crisp white and gold uniform, my alto sax glinting in my hands as I marched in step with my fellow bandmates.
In this week’s sketchbook episode, I’m going back to 7th grade, to my very first marching band memory, one that in many ways set the tone for how I deal with and overcome setbacks in my life.
Hello, and welcome to episode 35. If you’ve been listening to this show for a while, then it should be no surprise to you that I got my start as an artist playing music.
I owe the pleasure of being a musician to the saxophone, which was my main instrument for over a decade. I took my studies seriously, and I did so well that I was almost always first chair in band. I often received the chance to play solos at concerts, and I got to play the difficult parts.
7th grade was no exception; as a new student at middle school, I was getting used to a new life after transferring schools, and I was an awkward kid who had a difficult time making friends. But I played the sax well, better than my peers.
One day, my band director told me to stay after class. I thought I was in trouble, but once everyone had left, he told me that I had been selected for an opportunity to play in a marching band for the first time.
My hometown of Florissant, Missouri, has a special festival every year called the Valley of Flowers. There’s a huge carnival, a beauty pageant, lots of food and music, and of course, the Grand Parade. The high school sends the marching band to the parade every year, and the high school band director asked for a few talented middle school students to march along with the high school kids.
The thought of playing with older kids scared the heck out of me, but even as a kid, I had learned to say yes to any interesting opportunity that came my way, especially if it meant that I didn’t have to go to Algebra class.
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There I was, at McCluer High School, among high school students for the first time. My mom dropped me off, and I walked into the band room for the first time, lugging my saxophone case and a backpack. I recognized two other students from my middle school, and we stuck together like frightened animals.
The high school band was practicing when we entered. Several of the tuba players turned and gave us a strange glare. The saxophone players ignored us completely, running through their parts and scooping their notes like pros.
The band director was a black man named Mr. Travis, and he welcomed us. He was bald, with a white goatee, and he wore a red shirt and khaki shorts, and socks that went up to his knees. He was intimidating; unlike my current band director, he took music seriously and didn’t have time for shenanigans.
I took out my saxophone, which was a worn sax that my mom bought cheaply at the local music shop. Compared to the other kids, my sax looked like a joke.
I sat down, warmed up with a few scales, and before I had a chance to catch my breath, the director told me and my peers to play the opening to the first song, which was Another Star by Stevie Wonder.
I hadn’t had much time to practice the song; I had listened to my grandfather’s cassette tape of Stevie Wonder songs, so I knew the melody, but there were parts of the sheet music that I couldn’t read.
We didn’t get through the first measure before he cut us off. We completely bombed. We didn’t get the syncopation right. We played notes out of tune. But all throughout, he helped us and taught us how to play more expressively.
We were going to be marching, he warned us, and before we practiced that we’d better get the music right. I’m not so sure we ever did get the music right, but after several takes, we went outside and learned how to march.
**\*
Now, keep in mind that I have asthma, didn’t play sports, and until this point in my life, had never played my saxophone and walked at the same time. Marching up and down the high school parking lot with the older kids absolutely winded me, so much that some of the kids laughed at me and the other middle school kids.
We were terrible. Absolutely terrible. Several times the drum major marched next to us to help us stay in time, but we’d fall out of step, fall out of tune, or be so winded that we couldn’t breathe.
This was our only practice session before the parade, and we wouldn’t have another chance.
As the sun set and the band packed up for the day, Mr. Travis gave me some words of encouragement. Told me I did a good job and that he’d see me at the parade.
I wasn’t ready. But I didn’t have a choice. I would have to get ready.
**\*
The morning of the parade, I polished my saxophone, trying to make it as shiny as possible. I wore one of my dad’s St. Louis Cardinals caps, to match the high school’s red, white and blue colors. When my mom dropped me off at the parking lot where the band was warming up, I had never been more nervous in my life. I joined ranks with my middle school peers, and we looked at each other anxiously, trying to hide our fear. The rest of the band was wearing their uniforms, but we wore red t-shirts tucked into blue shorts. We clearly looked out of place.
After what felt like an eternity of waiting, we fell into formation with the band and marched into the street through old town Florissant, past houses, businesses, churches, and parks. Hundreds of people were lined up on the street, wearing sunglasses and sitting in lawn chairs, clapping and cheering as the drum corps began to play and the color guard twirled their flags.
And then, before we knew it, the drum major signaled for us to raise our horns to our mouths and start playing the music of Stevie Wonder.
Now, I won’t sit here and tell you that I did a good job. In fact, I didn’t do any better than I had the night before, even though I practiced.
After the first block, I was covered in sweat and could hardly breathe again. I don’t know for sure, but I’m pretty sure I was out of step, too.
But I kept up with the band and never fell behind. I blew into that saxophone like my life depended on it, like this would be my one and only performance for my hometown.
And I survived.
Against all odds.
As the band packed up in the parking lot, several of the high school kids gave me a high five, and I felt validated. Mr. Travis shook my hand, thanked me, and told me to keep up the good work.
When it was time for me to go to high school, I transferred to another school district, so that was officially the last time I would ever see him, but I’ll never forget how he encouraged me in the few minutes of time we spent together.
**\*
As the years passed, I thought about that day, and how it set the tone for much of the rest of my life. I’m always the awkward guy who stands out for strange reasons. I’m not the best-looking or most talented, but I work hard, and I don’t give up. Even when I can hardly breathe and I’ve been marching on hard asphalt for two hours.
All these years later, I decided to look up Mr. Travis to see what happened to him. I learned that he had passed away. So rest in peace, Mr. Travis, and thank you for giving me one small burst of confidence that would last me the rest of my life.
**\*
“It really is an honor if I can be inspirational to a younger singer or person. It means I've done my job.” – Aretha Franklin
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In this episode, I talk about my first marching band experience, and how in many ways it set the tone for how I deal with setbacks and overcome obstacles.
##Links
Show Notes (including a transcript and sound credits): www.michaellaronn.com/episode35
Check out all the past episodes on my website: www.michaellaronn.com/podcast
My YouTube Channel for Writers: http://www.youtube.com/authorlevelup
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##Sound/Music Credits:
Intro/Outro Music: “Kick. Push” by Ryan Little: http://freemusicarchive.org/music/RyanLittle//kickpush
Band going crazy by Omar Alvarado: https://freesound.org/people/Omar%20Alvarado/sounds/97991/
Marching Band by Evanmack01: https://freesound.org/people/evanmack01/sounds/201238/
Marchingband2 by nfrae: https://freesound.org/people/nfrae/sounds/195370/
