The time had come. The award ceremony of the last competition of the marching band season, the National Championships for class IV A was beginning shortly. Being at the J. Birney Crum Stadium with the rest of band, as well as other marching bands from around the Northeast, was surreal. The energy was crackling through the air as we waited with anticipation for the ceremony to commence. Minutes before, all of us were watching a lively performance by Sacred Heart University.
I was born and raised in Gulfport, Mississippi, an area immersed in a relaxed coastal culture and a vibrant jazz and blues heritage. Gulfport is located right off the Gulf of Mexico and less than an hour from New Orleans, Louisiana. Living near the Gulf, heavily influenced my childhood, I would spend weekends at the beach, and long hours traveling to distant islands far from the coast I called home. The music you would hear at the beach were always from timeless Americana artist; such as, Bob Dylan and Jonny Cash. My parents, not musicians themselves, were infatuated with the music of the late 1980’s from artists like Prince, Michael Jackson, and Journey.
As the late Hunter S. Thompson said, “Music has always been a matter of Energy to me, a question of Fuel. Sentimental people call it Inspiration, but what they really mean is Fuel. I have always needed Fuel. I am a serious consumer. On some nights I still believe that a car with the gas needle on empty can run about fifty more miles if you have the right music very loud on the radio.”
Out of all the things I would do in high school, nothing would impact me more than joining the North Rangers Marching Band. It would give me more skills than any other aspect of my life that would prepare me for a future and allow me to evolve from a shy child to an adult with skills that prepared me for my future. I went into high school as a shy kid, with no true direction, at least until I discovered my schools marching band. Although coming in two years behind most of me peers, I knew that this was where I was meant to be, and with that, my mind was set and I was determined. Throughout the next two years, I would face countless difficulties with this that felt at times like tests of my willpower and what this band meant to me, but luckily I would push through, and in the end, would be left with a stronger person.
I’m at home on the high school parking lot. It’s the only space the administration grudgingly affords our marching band, and yet it’s ours. The band family lives and thrives off people supporting each other, we are there for each other when no one else is. I was elected by this family to be their band president last spring, and I have been completely changed. Despite the flashy title, I am still just one member of this 140 strong group, and I am still pushing to fulfill the responsibility placed on my shoulders.
“If you think you can, you can. If you think you can’t you’re right.” Ever since I was young, that remained one of my father’s favorite quotes to say, if it be a disagreement with a friend, or working on long division problem. While growing up, knowing that my siblings had not done quite well in school, and that was one of my biggest incentives to do well. I had grown up on one of the worst sides of town, living in an apartment complex with one of the worst reputations, living off the checks my father brought in from his back disability, and food stamps.
I will never forget that encounter the intense sun, the endless horizon, the infinite shades of blue that dissolved any boundary between sky and trees. The views were like swimming into a kaleidoscope, deceptively plain "Lake Winaukee" sign on the outside, but a show of colors on the inside, waiting to shock and, mesmerize me. Those colors! Sails on the horizon covered the lake; streaks of sunlight illuminated them, the swaying wildlife creating a dance of rhythm. Beautiful, preserved life synchronizing every movement with the camp sight creating one living entity.
Although many special events have happened lately the football game that was played against spring hill was of special events. That bright sunny day at Dierks High school it was homecoming day. As all the girls were dressed up in their elegant dresses blue jeans and t-shirts were what everyone else was wearing. The mums glitter and shined as they walked down the homecoming court their hair all in place.
I'm in the car driving toward the high school thinking about nothing except what I'm expected to do today in my game. I have my headphones on and nothing else is phasing me. People could be yelling in my ear and I wouldn't hear them. I'm only focusing on one thing. We all sit outside our locker room with our headphones on waiting for coach to come and unlock the door.
I remember that night as if it were crystal clear. The night in which an unfortunate realization took place, a reality check if you’d rather. It was the beginning of my freshman year of high school, I was at home along with the rest of my family. My older sister was doing homework and i was surfing through the channels, bored as usual. I recalled my mom being in the laundry room, so I proceeded to go in that direction in hopes of being entertained.
“Oh ma gosh, did you know about this?!” I couldn't believe my eyes! The image burned into the back of my head and through. How was this allowed? I was never expecting this to happen, not in a million years.
Easy to encounter, not so easy to overcome, failures claw at hopes and successes. They bring down those who are weak enough to let them in. They strengthen those that can get past them. I got past one that almost ruined my chances for new opportunities.
During my four years of marching band there were series of ups and downs. One serious downfall in disguise was my junior year. My junior year our season was set up for major success with an amazing staff, extremely supportive parents, a great band, and an even better group work ethic than any other year. However, there were uncontrollable factors that some people, including myself, considered the single factor that “ruined” our season.
I had just got out of school one cold March day. I had been waiting my entire freshman year for volleyball tryouts to come into season. The basketball team was still having practice in the McGowan gym because they still had some season left in store for them. That afternoon when the bell rung at 2:45 p.m. I knew that I had to bring my all into what was happening next.