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Confessions of a band nut
I
think I may have mentioned a time or two that I am a bit of a band nut.
I'm just crazy for a good marching band, a fantastic symphony orchestra,
or even a beginning junior high band. To me, there is something just
so... poignant about the blend of instruments, percussion and direction
that nearly makes me weep, even as I just ponder it. My husband, on the
other hand, loves soccer. He thinks nothing of the sacrifice of a broken
rib (his), if it means that he blocked a goal. He will get up on a
Saturday morning, coach soccer all day long, and then still want to play
if someone has a pickup game that evening. Me; it's all I can do to
focus when my sons are on the field- I've been known to miss several
"big moments" because I have been yacking it up with the other
moms. It's not that I HATE soccer; or that I WANT to miss the boys'
goals or blocks, but it just drags on sooooooo long. Those high school
games are killers. They last something like 2 hours, maybe more, and
frankly, I've never been too much a sportsy gal. Give me a good ole band
contest any day of the week, and I can bunker in from sunup to sundown
listening to the bands compete.
Which is why I was so excited last weekend when my two oldest boys, who
are both in high school band, went to my old hometown for a band
contest. As I envisioned it, I would arrive at the contest before the
bus, pick out my seat, and stay there until the sun set and trophies
were awarded. But alas and alack for me; my mother, who lives where the
contest was held, needed my hubby to install some headlights in her car.
I knew this meant goodbye to my dream of an all day band love affair- he
gets fidgety sitting through a halftime show. Like the soccer field- and
me he is there for one reason only- to support his boys and to see THEM.
Unlike me; he is not prone to fits of misty eyes when a band strikes a
particularly stellar chord- and when a show ends, he is very unlikely to
be hollering and whooping up his appreciation.
So imagine his shock last week on the way to the contest when he
inquired, "After our band plays, we're leaving, right?" and I
replied,
"What, are you CRAZY?!"
Horror was written on his face. "What do you mean?!" His
voice had the edge to it- similar to mine should I be informed of an
all-day soccer tournament.
"Honey," I explained,
"we can't just go hear our band play and then LEAVE!"
"Why not?" He was genuinely befuddled
over the impropriety of this.
"For one thing, " I replied,
appealing to his fiscal side, "we have to pay five dollars a piece
to get in the door."
"Don't think I have been looking forward to
that." He wryly commented. "That seems like a bit much for
listening to one band."
I tried to explain that it was for listening to ALL of the bands,
but he was having none of that stuff. Listening to OTHER PEOPLE'S KIDS
play their instruments? Not on his life. We finally compromised that we
would stay for the rest of the bands in the same class as our band, and
that way I would have a basis of comparison for the scores which sadly I
would not be present to hear that night.
It didn't help that it was about 100
degrees and that sun was shining with all the ferocity of a hot day in
Hades..... even my youngest son who loves both soccer and band found the
contest a lot to bear. And, he pointed out to me, as I clapped and
stomped my feet and shouted out praises to our band,
"You are embarrassing me." His little face
was pinched.
"You are embarrassing me when you yell like that." His
eyebrows furrowed down over his eyes.
"That's okay." I told him, patting him on
the head. "I am embarrassing daddy too." My son looked
beseechingly at his father who nodded in affirmation and then shrugged
his shoulders as if to say, "but what are we going to do? Your
mother is just a band nut."
"One day." I promised, "You will be out there on
the field and I will be up here screaming for you!"
His horrified face spoke volumes of his displeasure
that he had the unique bad luck to be the son of a bonafide band nut.
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