It was the time of year we lived for. We went through so many school days, Christmas, Valentine's Day, numerous symphonic band contests, the All-District auditions, the All-State auditions, the All-County clinics, the entire summer full of rehearsals and sectionals and band camp, all for one thing. Marching band.
We lived and breathed for music. We strived for the thumping of bass drums and the high-pitched squeals of a clarinet running up and down their notes, the low rumbles of a baritone and a sousaphone, the delicate melodies of a flute, the blasting obnoxiousness of a trumpet solo. We worked hard, in order to be the best, to win every competition we were in.
Yes, the marching part was tiring. And the competitions were sometimes disappointing. The work was endless, we could never give up. Other band members could be aggravating. Band couples were often disgusting. The trombones were very perverted and the clarinets were usually bitches. The section leaders were know-it-alls, and the band major was an ass. The seniors were sometimes jerks, and the freshmen were so naïve.
But with all the bad things about marching band, there were the things that made it completely worthwhile. The friendships were irreplaceable. The inside jokes were unforgettable. Most of the members were caring, kind people, that lived to make others smile. A lot of the band couples truly loved each other, and they were couples that lasted a long time. The section leaders were the best people to befriend, and the band major looked out for everyone. The seniors helped the younger players, and the freshmen were the light of the band.
Look past the football games and the competitions, the parades and the auditions, the funny uniforms and fluffy plumes, the gloves and shiny shoes. Look at the marching band family that lies inside all of this…
