Call the Band to “Attention!” April 12, 2015
(This poem is based on the thoughts and recollections of my band students, as shared with me in conversations and letters over the years.) Not sure, why I joined the band. Perhaps, it looked like fun. Was it just my friends, who encouraged me, to twirl that “plastic gun?” The marching field, the practice rooms. That big, rehearsal hall. Was WORK and fun, I soon found out, when “Attention!” was the call. The practices, on summer days. The sun, it seemed so big. We got free tans, and blisters too. And yes, we sweat like pigs. Each day, we saw the sun rise, when school year had begun. Those early morning, “drills for skills,” were never that much fun. At times, we practiced in the mud. Even, when the rain did fall. My hands were taped, my ankles wrapped. Still, “Attention!” was the call. We practiced, not just early, but often, until dark. Sometimes, we lit the field with lights, from cars, we’d carefully park. The director pushed us, all the time. The drum major’s days, were long. Our captains, and our leaders, were kind and tough and strong. Then the music soared, the horns they roared. The flags, a glorious sight. The drums were loud, and we were proud. On football Friday nights. Stadium lights, mosquito bites. Stood tall, throughout it all. So cold, we nearly froze in place. Yet, “Attention!” was the call. We just let go, the brass did blow. Our big, 4th quarter jam. We got the fans, up on their feet. They cheered, and clapped their hands. The festivals, on Saturdays. We worked so hard, each week. We marched, and waited for our score. Striving, to reach our peak. The speaker called out “ONE” most times. We wanted to win it all. Improve each week. Stand as a wall. When “Attention!” was the call.
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