His mother must be proud
I went to my High School Alma Mater for the homecomeing game last weekend. It really wasnt on the top of my list of things to do, but since my son (who is in 6th grade) was invited to march in the parade, and since anything to do with marching band causes me to lose my senses, I cheerfully agreed to go.
I really was proud of my son, walking along in his jeans and T shirt- carrying, of all things, a saxaphone ( I was a percussion major). I thought that the whole evening would go along relatively uneventfully- we watch the game, we crown the queen, eat some pizza, play a few tunes, and then go home.
Famous last words.
I need to set the scene first. The town I live in is not exactly Mayberry, but it has a lot of small town tendencies, even though we are not far from Cincinnati. The high school I attended was a Catholic High school, with about 225 in each class. The school has gotten the lable "jock school" because they have historically been very strong in athletics.
To say that the town and the school are conservative, is an understatement.
So I bought my ticket, and walked into the stadium and found a seat next to the band. I happened to overhear one of the drummers complain that his fingers hurt. I told him that his fingers were hurting because he was gripping his sticks too tightly. Get this- he rolled his eyes at me, and said "yeah right" and turned his back. I marched my first band camp before this arrogant little shit was born, and I get "yeah right?"
One factoids that is important here, I taught that same drumline until 1999. When I was teaching them, they won every contest that they went to.
I chose to remain anonymous and just talk to me son about the parade.
Factoid #2 that comes into play: Farmer Hogget, in the movie Babe, is a character that I like a lot. He is well known for being a man of few words. I identify with that. I like that a lot of the time.
There I am sitting just watching people, which I love to do, and the assistant band director comes and sits next to me.
I know this man from when I was in school. I dated his sister in law ( another very long story)
Assistant director really needed someone to talk to, it seems
By the time we are finished with the first quarter, AD has told me about his job, his three kids, his wife (my almost sister in law) who is directing the color guard, how he designed an built the sets, how he designed all of the racks in the equipment trailer, and I can't remember what else. This is in between the time that he is giving his running comentary about the football game.
The band always plays a song or two at the quarter, so I saw my opportunity to get away, when he hit me with the zinger.
AD- "You know there are going to be 10 drummers next year"
Me- unglazing my eyes" Oh really?"
AD- Yeah, and we are thinking about having a Winter Percussion group this year
Note: this is the equivalent of offering an alcholic the keys to the beer truck
Me- Who are the kids?
AD - well , Arrogant Shit is the section leader......
I went back to nodding and smiling, and reminding myself that I had a quartet now and it was time to do grown up things
Factoid #3. I am not a homophobe. There are several gay men in the chorus and I like all of them. I am not sure that I understand their choice of partners (lesbians I understand- gay men puzzle me), but I think that they are for the most part really good people.
Factoid #4 I think that shows like "while you were out" make people beleive that if you go to Wal Mart and buy a hammer and a paint brush, you are already a carpenter or a painter. This applies to "queer eye" as far as I am concerned
The drum major for the band is a flamer. I can't put it any other way. When I was in school, even the mere implication that someone was a bit effeminate usually resulted in a scuffle.
DM was ready to burst into flame.
He helped the color guard put on their makeup
He helped them do their hair
He stood with his hands backwards on his hips
He did the whole air kiss thing with another flamer in the sax section-you know, the one that was ADHD and thought the every word that came out of his mouth was "hysterical"-I think I heard that word 100 times
He pranced around like he was in low gravity shoes
He re applied the product (whatever it was) to his hair after half time
He had his hands on everyone he could get close to--suggesting that we should do group shoulder rubs after third quarter.
and the coup de grace....
he knew the cheerleaders routines better than the cheerleaders did, going so far as to pretend he had pom poms in his hands and mimicking their moves.
I was nauseated
He would have never made it out of band camp when I was there
There is such a thing as Death by Swirly
to be continued...
Troubador
I really was proud of my son, walking along in his jeans and T shirt- carrying, of all things, a saxaphone ( I was a percussion major). I thought that the whole evening would go along relatively uneventfully- we watch the game, we crown the queen, eat some pizza, play a few tunes, and then go home.
Famous last words.
I need to set the scene first. The town I live in is not exactly Mayberry, but it has a lot of small town tendencies, even though we are not far from Cincinnati. The high school I attended was a Catholic High school, with about 225 in each class. The school has gotten the lable "jock school" because they have historically been very strong in athletics.
To say that the town and the school are conservative, is an understatement.
So I bought my ticket, and walked into the stadium and found a seat next to the band. I happened to overhear one of the drummers complain that his fingers hurt. I told him that his fingers were hurting because he was gripping his sticks too tightly. Get this- he rolled his eyes at me, and said "yeah right" and turned his back. I marched my first band camp before this arrogant little shit was born, and I get "yeah right?"
One factoids that is important here, I taught that same drumline until 1999. When I was teaching them, they won every contest that they went to.
I chose to remain anonymous and just talk to me son about the parade.
Factoid #2 that comes into play: Farmer Hogget, in the movie Babe, is a character that I like a lot. He is well known for being a man of few words. I identify with that. I like that a lot of the time.
There I am sitting just watching people, which I love to do, and the assistant band director comes and sits next to me.
I know this man from when I was in school. I dated his sister in law ( another very long story)
Assistant director really needed someone to talk to, it seems
By the time we are finished with the first quarter, AD has told me about his job, his three kids, his wife (my almost sister in law) who is directing the color guard, how he designed an built the sets, how he designed all of the racks in the equipment trailer, and I can't remember what else. This is in between the time that he is giving his running comentary about the football game.
The band always plays a song or two at the quarter, so I saw my opportunity to get away, when he hit me with the zinger.
AD- "You know there are going to be 10 drummers next year"
Me- unglazing my eyes" Oh really?"
AD- Yeah, and we are thinking about having a Winter Percussion group this year
Note: this is the equivalent of offering an alcholic the keys to the beer truck
Me- Who are the kids?
AD - well , Arrogant Shit is the section leader......
I went back to nodding and smiling, and reminding myself that I had a quartet now and it was time to do grown up things
Factoid #3. I am not a homophobe. There are several gay men in the chorus and I like all of them. I am not sure that I understand their choice of partners (lesbians I understand- gay men puzzle me), but I think that they are for the most part really good people.
Factoid #4 I think that shows like "while you were out" make people beleive that if you go to Wal Mart and buy a hammer and a paint brush, you are already a carpenter or a painter. This applies to "queer eye" as far as I am concerned
The drum major for the band is a flamer. I can't put it any other way. When I was in school, even the mere implication that someone was a bit effeminate usually resulted in a scuffle.
DM was ready to burst into flame.
He helped the color guard put on their makeup
He helped them do their hair
He stood with his hands backwards on his hips
He did the whole air kiss thing with another flamer in the sax section-you know, the one that was ADHD and thought the every word that came out of his mouth was "hysterical"-I think I heard that word 100 times
He pranced around like he was in low gravity shoes
He re applied the product (whatever it was) to his hair after half time
He had his hands on everyone he could get close to--suggesting that we should do group shoulder rubs after third quarter.
and the coup de grace....
he knew the cheerleaders routines better than the cheerleaders did, going so far as to pretend he had pom poms in his hands and mimicking their moves.
I was nauseated
He would have never made it out of band camp when I was there
There is such a thing as Death by Swirly
to be continued...
Troubador
posted by Troubador @ 11:37 AM
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