Today the band performed at a festival as part of its spring trip. The director chooses this festival both for its location and for its hard judging. In the parking lot, in front of the busses, with grey overcast and gusting winds, he called the band (still in their tuxes and dresses) around into a circle and announced they had made straight ones at the contest for the first time. A victory cheer rang out, complete with smiles, hugs, jumping, and that sort of thing. The excitement seemed short lived, however. They were surprised, but not too surprised.
Later in the day a student wanted to leave the room, and for this place I had to follow. I got my shoes on, put my ear buds in, and started listening to the second movement from “Estancia”. Due to a slight headache I was slow getting off the couch, and let the student get a little head start on me, so when I walked outside I was walking alone.
Outside – the wind was stronger here than it was on the mainland. Through the sound of the breeze cut the calls of seagulls, of which there were likely hundreds near by. Leaving the complex, walking on grass, I came to an old, wooden bridge. The bridge led over a hill of tall grass and occasional cacti that predated civilization on this patch of land. It was the same kind of terrain that surrounded all of the developed lots you passed on the way to the condos. Soon you had to walk over a thick, long patch of bright, tan colored sand as you continued over the bridge. It was loose sand, textured with unmoving ripples, but also easily picked up by the wind and carried into your eyes. But then once you were over the hill, you could finally see it.
The beach.
Unlike on the bridge, the sand on the beach was compact. I pictured it being loose and difficult to walk on, but it was very much the opposite, compact though bumpy. It was also much darker sand than I’d pictured. Just like any wet dirt you would find. And it was warm. In fact, while the clouds were overcast grey, and the gusty winds never let up, the temperature stayed slightly warm, and the air humid. When I took out one of my ear buds I finally could hear the sound of crashing waves added to the roar of the wind and the calls of seagulls. The waves themselves were more frequent than I would’ve imagined. And taller. Turbulent was the word that came to my mind.
Yep, this particular beach was not quite as nice as I had hoped. The entire beach front was littered with mounds of seaweed. With bare feet you had to carefully step over it on your way out to the water. Even the seagulls seemed to have a tough time. When flying from right to left, they zoomed past me, but in the opposite direction they had to fight for every foot of progress against the wind. For a moment I wondered if that was frustrating for them, and then the wind resistance brought one of them within ten feet of me at lower than chest height. For a few moments, before it escaped, I was able to replace the backdrop with one from a higher altitude, and I imagined what it might be like to be his wing man, like something out of an IMAX movie.
Not what I’d imagined, but still very nice (the beach, that is). The last time I visited a beach I was with the Angelo State University Marching Band not far from here in Corpus Christi, though we didn’t arrive at the hotel until after dark. The last time I could recall being to the beach before that? My childhood, and a family vacation with my dad and his second wife down in a beach town in Mexico. It got me to thinking.
Thanks to the band, I’ve done a lot of traveling, and I’ve been a lot of places. Thanks to the band I got to see and experience so many things, whether it was that yearly trip to Schlitterban after State Solo and Ensemble, or the Inaugural Parade in Washington D.C. (which itself was followed by a few nights and days of sight seeing, great dining, and incredible memories), and so much more.
Being part of “the band” has been, and continues to be one of the greatest decisions of my life. Not only when I signed up for it as an elective for the first time (when I chose it as the alternative to Spanish), but every year that I decided to go back.
We don’t want those trips to be the reason kids sign up for band. We want it to be for the musical experiences. But this sort of traveling is also a great reason. The friends, the stories… Oh, the stories. So many of them. I often wonder how many other bands had their own version of “619”, or their own Fight Clubs going on in hotel laundry mats.
Most students graduate and rarely, if ever, play music again, with a band or otherwise. Which is sad. But of course we chose differently. I can’t help but to think that it was one of, if not the most influential decision of my life. Where would I be, if not for “the band?” Who would I be? What experiences would I have? I’m sure it wouldn’t have been a bad life, but I seriously doubt it would’ve been anything like what I’ve lived so far.
How many people from my high school band do I still keep up with? How many friends have I made through Kappa Kappa Psi across the southwestern US as well as in my own chapter? Thanks to the fraternity, in addition to the band trips, I went to district conventions for six straight years, visiting cities and campuses I might not have otherwise ever seen. And the hotel at National Convention two years ago? Presidents go there. I might have never been there, nor met Pat Sheridan and Sam Pilafian, were it not for the fraternity. And I would’ve never been in the fraternity were it not for “the band.”
On my way back from the beach I had these thoughts swimming in my head. In my ears were the sounds of “Elsa’s Procession to the Cathedral”, a piece of music I had the privilege of performing a few years ago. It was one of the greatest musical experiences I can recall from my college years. Why were all of these memories and thoughts pouring into my head?
Who knows? But I felt like telling every one of those kids in the band I was here with, “Stay in band. It will be the best decision of your life, every time. Whatever you do, stay in band!”
The places it has taken me. My goodness! I’m so grateful to have had a great high school band experience. I’m so grateful to have stuck with it through college. And though right now, with graduation a week away and the poor outlook of the job market bringing great uncertainty for me and my family (which has a second son joining the ranks in just a few short months), I know that once I find the next band to be a part of, sticking with it will continue to be one of the most rewarding decisions I could possibly make. Seriously, are we lucky, or what?
But I probably don’t have to tell you. Regardless, I just had these things on my mind lately, being on yet another band trip, but the last of my college career, and the first with a high school group since 2003, and with student teaching having officially ended this past Friday, and graduation a week from today… you get the idea. I just wanted to document them. And share them with anyone who would listen.
So thank you for reading, for allowing me to share. Until next time, take care!
Musically yours,
Mr. Cooper
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