Listening To The Band

The Old Man loves this time of the year.  Some have bemoaned Fall as being depressing and glum, what with winter coming on and all.  But hang winter.....fall is special, perhaps more a feeling than a season.  I love the color, the crispness in the air, that feeling of coziness when outside temperatures began their gradual decline, and most of all, I love the reflections of autumns past; of festivals, football, and wood smoke.  And I remember the band.

Bedford didn't have a high school band.  We had the Bedford Firemen's Band.  It was made up of some of our volunteer firemen with the addition of those of us who could be coerced, cajoled, or cornered into joining.  I was one of the latter.

Our band would play at the town Christmas parade, the high school homecoming game, and maybe the 4th of July celebration.  We would travel to other towns to play at festivals and march in parades.  The highlight of our year was our trip to the Tobacco Festival in Richmond, Va.  That was a big deal.  Of course, to us a Kumquat Festival would have been a big deal.  One thing sticks clearly in my memory; we seemed to always get stuck behind the local equestrian club.  Whether English or Western, horses seem to find a band behind them to be quite upsetting to their systems.  Out of necessity, we learned to side-step like the Philadelphia Mummers Ferko String Band. 

Through the years, I've discovered a number of things at which I am not gifted.  Trumpet is one of them.  I could make "Grand Old Flag" or "Stars & Stripes Forever" sound like a lovesick aardvark, so my band career was short-lived.  All was not lost, however, as the concept of 'band' and 'football' surfaced years later when I took on a challenge even greater than trumpet....parenthood.

Like most folks, I suppose, my trip through parenthood has been a lot like my band career.  At times I've blown some really sour notes and I've had to side-step and shuck-and-jive.  But once in a while I think I've gotten it right.  Both of our daughters have, at some point when we felt they were not performing up to their potential, gotten the "Listening to the Band" lecture.  It went something like this.

" I really believe you can do better.  You've got what it takes to succeed in anything you tackle.  It seems to me that you're listening to the band."  I'd get that blank look that tells parents your child is thinking, "Huh" or has tuned you out completely.  So I'd continue, "Think about the Brookville football team.  They're playing Jefferson Forest and Brookville is behind 4 points. Brookville has the ball. The time on the clock is down to 7 seconds.  It's 3rd down and the quarterback hands off to his best running back.  The back breaks 4 tackles, reverses his field, and is clearly heading unopposed for a touchdown to win the game.  As he runs by the home bench, the pep band starts to play.  Distracted, he stumbles and loses focus trying to figure out what the band is playing.  Tacklers catch up to him, bring him down and time runs out.  Well, it seems to me that you are like that runner; you're being distracted by the "band", and you're losing your focus.  It's time to stick to business."

It must have worked because those two daughters are now my heroes.  They have matured into two of the finest parents I've ever known.  They've met challenge after challenge and acquitted themselves with dignity, honor, and class.  

Maybe I wasn't that bad at trumpet either.