This is the beginning of a blog series. For Story Sunday I will share a story that is tied to a single photo from the past or present, an object, a recipe . . . anything with a story behind it.
**I meant to post this on Sunday. I wrote it on Sunday. But I just couldn't pull myself away from my comfortable bed, Downton Abbey, and my chocolate chip pizookie long enough to click "publish". So just pretend that today is Sunday, okay?
Gustine High School Marching Band, 1995
A few weeks ago I watched the Rose Bowl Parade on tv which featured many top notch high school marching bands from around the country. As I watched I suddenly remembered, hey! I was in a marching band. It was funny that something I was involved in for years had almost slipped from my memory. I started sharing stories and details of my band days with Scott. And I realized that I've never told my kids about this extra-curricular activity of mine. For me, a lot of my memories are based on photos and for whatever reason band is something that I don't have many photos of.
So yes. I was in band. That's me playing the flute on the front row, left. Just look at that great posture!
I started playing the flute in 4th grade and continued through my junior year of high school.
I went to a small high school (400 students) and we had a small band. Thankfully, being in band at our school did not have that nerdy/un-cool stigma that it might have other places. Our band included members of the football team, cheerleaders, and other "popular" kids.
Joining band in our small school meant that you you did it all - concert band, marching band, pep band. Football games (and half-time shows), marching band competitions, local parades (homecoming and Veterans' Day), basketball games, and concerts. The football games were always fun and I did love playing the school fight song, "Sons of the Gustine Reds, fight for your alma mater . . . " I think I might still remember the notes!
Our band room was separate from the rest of the high school. Band was always held during 1st period. I remember many mornings (some COLD, foggy mornings) going outside to practice our lines and roll steps in the parking lot or football field. When a competition was approaching we had after-school practices on the street in front of the highschool, practicing our corner turns as we went round and around the block. Of course we never had to worry about traffic. Traffic? What's that?
Our band uniforms were pretty awesome. Ha! Thick polyester. Old. And those hats. Oh my. You can't see it in the photo but our shirts had the most amazing ruffles. Pretty sweet. My shoes were a knock-off Doc Martens brand. The yellow stitching on the sole was a big no-no for competition, so I had to cover those up with a permanent marker.
Our director was Mr. Jamero, a little Polynesian man that we all loved. He had been the elementary, junior high, and high school band director in our town for 30 years. In fact, he was the band director when my dad was in band! He had a quiet way about him. He didn't have to raise his voice or get upset or call us to attention too often. There was a feeling of respect towards him that came from his years of experience and who he was in the community. He would sit on his stool in front of us, grey hair brushed back, dark glasses, and wave his little baton in short, quick movements. I was always impressed with what he was able to get us to do with seemingly little effort. He waved his hand, we followed. Like I said, we all loved him. Mr. Jamero retired after my sophomore year and he even attended my wedding reception.
1994 - Standing in front of the school. Look at how small our group was!
By my junior year I was the 1st chair flute. Woo! The only downside was the fact that the 2nd chair flute was a boy who "liked" me. But he just gave me the creeps. He was always asking me the oddest questions. There were also some random phone calls and anonymous notes in my locker that I'm sure came from him. Honestly, I still shudder just thinking about it! And I had to sit by him and share a music stand with him every single day.
When Mr. Jamero retired, there was a mass exodus of band members with him. I decided to stay on and give the new guy a shot. But he ended up being horrible, for a lot of reasons. So after my junior year I left band too.
That's pretty much my band story! I don't know if it surprises people to hear that I was in marching band. Maybe. But where I grew up it was what we did. We were small. And we probably weren't the most polished group. But we always did our best and had a good time.
In conjunction with Story Sunday I plan to share one idea, resource, or bit of inspiration to assist others with sharing & recording their story. I will point out from the beginning . . . don't get overwhelmed by thinking that you have to do it all. The beauty of having so many options is that you can pick and choose the method that works best for you!
Oh Life is an online journal service. I have used it off and on over the years.
It's really easy: Go to Oh Life, sign up for an account. Each day they send you a friendly e-mail with the question "How did your day go?" You type a response, send it, and it is stored privately at their site. At any time you can log into your account and export your journal entries to your computer.
Here's what I love about it:
- It's just a great reminder. And I need reminders! You can adjust your account settings to choose the time that your email shows up. You can get the emails daily or change it to a weekly reminder if that works better for you.
- While laying in bed at the end of the day I can pull out my iPad and type a few sentences, write out a detailed story, or simply list the events & activities of the day.
- The daily email from Oh Life includes a look back at a random entry from the past. I LOVE that. Here's a screenshot of the reminder email I received a few days ago:
As I mentioned, I have used it off and on over the years. Mostly off. But I want to do better this year by responding to the daily emails 2-3 times a week. Some days it might be really short, but at least it will be something.
