Concert #10 - The star among the bubbles
This is it, the last week of summer concerts. Judging by the manila folder passed out the week before, it should have been way easier than the 9th concert, phew. We did cut a number last week, and I was talking to AD2's husband before rehearsal. Apparently AD2 saw that we'd ended early and remarked, hey, we had time to play that cut song! Yes, well, if she'd been playing that concert, she'd know that everyone's embouchures were shot, and we were perfectly happy to have left that piece out. When you're sitting there rubbing your jaw at the end of a concert, it's not a good sign--it was very demanding. By the way, AD2 was not here this week. It's band camp time for a lot of schools and that's where she was.
One more tidbit from last week: It was service award time, so people got mentioned if they hit a milestone year. The person who does the awards is one of the clarinet players, and when he did the announcements during the concert, he phrased things kind of awkwardly. He announced that so-and-so hit five years, then started reading off a couple names where I'm sitting there thinking, there's no way that person has been here just five years; they've been here longer than I have! One was the Eb clarinet player's husband; another was a trombone player that had been band president recently. And then at the end of those couple names, that's when the award reader went, and those guys are celebrating 15 years with the band. Aha. When you're band president, it's a six-year commitment--two years as vice president, two years as president, then two years as immediate past president. Speaking of which, it was time for a new president. Our first-ever female president, a sax player, stepped down; one of our trombone players is now president; and the Eb player's husband is now vice president. Back to the awards, the piccolo player hit 40 years, so that was a minor bummer that she wasn't there. The director's wife was mentioned for her 50 years, though she was honored earlier this summer. And, even though it's not technically a milestone year for him, the longest-tenured band member always gets mentioned--our trombone player with something like 72 years of service, no joke. God bless him. This was the first year he didn't march in the parade, so he is conceding a bit to age, but he still plays.
On to this week. I'd taken my Wednesday trip to the arboretum, and I remembered my bug band this time. It was only lemongrass, not combined with lavender, but it still helps. (Mom still had custody of the lavender at that time and I didn't want to have to go into her room to dig around for it while she was sleeping. She gave it to me this weekend for keeps, at least.) I got in and put my stuff down, and while talking to AD2's husband, the director came over with what he called his albatross--some sort of machine deal that was connected to him to help clear out the infection from his old pacemaker, probably similar to the IV my grandma had when she was fighting off the infection from her ruptured appendix. It was battery-powered and looked like a small tote of sorts, and there was a long tube with a clear liquid in it. The director was complaining that the tube got tangled with the carrying strap, and he was hoping one of our French horn players, a nurse, could help him with that. I took a look at it briefly and it was not a quick fix; the carrying strap's handles were attached to the tote, so it's not like you could unclip one side, pull it out from the tube, and reattach it. You'd have to take out the little machine connected to the tube and carefully untangle everything. Yeah, better leave that to her just in case. He wore the tote sort of crossbody so it wouldn't slip off his shoulder.
The director was under orders to keep his arms down still, though he figured he could direct like our military guest conductor earlier this summer (that would be "tempo di that guy"). That gentleman keeps his hands low and doesn't use a baton, because at one point a baton slipped out of his hand and the front row ducked for cover, and after that…hands alone. The director split this concert with AD1. The director told a story of how he knew some guy who was very critical about how bands perform marches--they're both on the Sousa committee for evaluating community bands, I think--and the guy was at one of our performances in Texas a few years back. Afterward, the guy walked up to the director, who was thinking, oh, no…but the guy said, you've set a new bar for marches performed by community bands, something like that. Our director loves marches and apparently, to other ears, gets us to play them in a particular way. …I'm thinking it's just the sheer number of them we perform, since it's not uncommon for us to do 3-4 per show. (I put away all my music left over from this year earlier today, and the stack of marches to go back in the binders was heads and tails over the rest of the categories, like two dozen of them. If I had four of any other category, it was a lot.) Anyway, the director did nearly all the marches plus the last few songs, and AD1 did the rest. AD1 mentioned having two pieces he was concerned about. One was early on in the itinerary, likely the overture, and the other seemed simple enough, programmed because it had "September" in the title. I asked him, what, are you singing it? I couldn't figure out why he'd be so worried about it. He went, no, I'm not singing it, and to his relief I'm sure, it was cut by the director before we ever played it, oh darn.
When I arrived, I put my stuff in my normal chair and got all the second flute music. Two-Chairs-Down and my stand partner were due back from their vacations and I was eager to hear how they were. I went over to the section leader to tell her I wouldn't be at the Labor Day parade due to my cousin's wedding. She noticed my stuff and said, you do know that the piccolo player is still out of town, right? …Uh…no… So guess who played piccolo for a second week in a row! Bonus: We always--ALWAYS--end the season with "Stars and Stripes Forever." You know what that means. And…I would be doing it entirely alone. The section leader was telling the other flutes, you're welcome to bring your piccs and play the solo the second time through, but the first time, it's just going to be her. GREAT. Good thing I did pull it out and practice it (on flute) this week! It's been a couple decades since I performed it solo, and all I could think about was how, the very first time I did it here (thankfully as a duet), I blanked on half of it. Thank goodness I did have those three earlier shows this summer where I got in my practicing. Okay, I have a day to mentally prepare for this…it'll be okay.
What's amusing to me is that I totally had the chance to copy all the piccolo music last week, since I had access to that manila folder. I opted not to since I didn't think I was playing it, plus none of the music was super interesting, at least that I didn't already have. Naturally, I'd practiced all the 2nd flute music, which isn't often the same, but again this was a much easier concert than last week's so of everything we did, the overture was the hardest. Part of it is that it looks like piano music--this is one of the rare songs that has first and second flutes plus the piccolo all in one score, and the flutes have the top line and the piccolo has the bottom, so the entire thing is two staves all the way through. It turns a 3-4 page number into 8 pages, which is kind of a pain, but at the same time makes it easy to know where the piccolo is in the music during long breaks, since the flutes are still playing at times. It was a well-known piece by Strauss that I knew I couldn't play as written on one rehearsal, so I cheated. I skipped a number of the doodles and just played downbeats, or quarter notes with accents between them, that sort of thing. Unless someone in the audience was a complete musical nerd with knowledge of the piccolo part, they'd never know. I think everything else I was able to play as-is. The only trouble I had then was figuring out which parts I had and which parts I needed the hard copies for, which was mildly stressful at times. I ended up having to go home and sort through all the music, then copy what I was missing for the future; it would be too much work to get it absolutely all prepared the way I like it with sheet protectors and everything for my binder. But, well, now I have the copies. I went to bed later than usual that night, since I spent probably an hour after I got home dealing with music--and since AD1 did about half the concert, we ran long and I didn't get home 'til after 10--and I didn't sleep well. This could get interesting.
Thursday, day of the concert. I came to band from a different direction and was able to spot a really good parking spot--about as close as I was going to get to the band building, sweet. I mean, I *am* the star of the show *cough*. I'd worn a tank top I'd embellished with hot-fix crystals, so when I got inside and the percussion section leader gave me crap for wearing the wrong uniform, I jokingly said, I am the stars in the stars and stripes! See, I twinkle! That got a laugh (though, alas, I did not actually say the twinkle part there). We had all the summer flutes in the section this week, plus two oboes--AD1 recruited one of his students, the same one who'd played with us at the Fourth of July concert. I still think he looks like our one trombone player, who was made a member the night before. It was her and someone else…oh, I think the one tenor sax player. The membership person, that clarinet player who keeps the service records, he also said something about a young clarinet player who sat behind him possibly qualifying to become a member, but she is very young-looking and I don't think she qualifies yet--it looked like the people around him were correcting him and he went, never mind! Sorry, dear; maybe next year. It's possible she just graduated from high school.
While I'd been sitting outside, reading my paper and eating dinner, I noticed…oh, no. The local cable channel is here to record this concert. GREAT. Okay, maybe there's a chance we won't go up front because of that… Yeah, no, we're doing the stage directions. Sigh. So I'm sitting on a bench and eating my dinner, including grapes, when one of the French horn players comes over. She's another early bird and is the one who has something like 56 years of service to the band. While I was eating, I started choking a bit on a grape; I think some of the liquid inside trickled down the wrong pipe, because I wasn't choking on food matter. It took a couple minutes for me to stop coughing, and she asked if I needed a whack on the back. (I see you went to the same first aid class as my mom, heh.) I calmed down and finished my meal, and we finished talking, and I went inside to freshen up.
The concert was going along okay. We got through the first half just fine, no major mishaps or anything. We had two marches in the first half for the director to conduct, and one was in honor of our newest band president, one of the trombone players, who happened to go to Northwestern. The march we did was by Karl King in response to why the NU director didn't play a lot of his marches--because the trombones complained that their parts were boring. Don't ever say that to a composer! King's response was a difficult dogfight section for them. For one rehearsal, it was pretty passable.
We hit the raffle and…oh, crap, I *really* have to go to the bathroom. Stupid grapes and their wateriness! Sigh. I think I realized it too late to go during the raffle itself. Oh, I pulled out the concert itinerary, and we actually did the NU song post raffle. We did a musical medley (your hint: Do you hear the people sing?), then a bunch of college songs in a medley. That was done by the director, but we had a rolloff, the conductors switched, and we went right into a march for U of I, conducted by AD1, an alum. By now I was getting kind of nervous--oh, gosh, I'm not going to make it to the end of the concert. I was totally fearful of wetting my pants in front of God and everyone. We hit another medley (by a composer who likes syncopated clocks), and at this point I was crossing my feet at the ankles and my legs were tense. Realize that proper playing position is feet flat on the floor for good posture and breath support, and I do that the vast majority of the time. I just couldn't right then; I felt pretty awkward. However, hope was coming! Following the medley, there were a couple songs where it wasn't necessary for me to play. I'd already told the oboe kid I'd probably go to the bathroom at some point, and I let 6th flute know as well. I feared inciting panic in the rest of the flute section since, y'know, I have a pretty important part coming and none of them cared to take it over. (I'd jokingly asked 6th flute if she wanted to duet with me; she was like, it's all you! Great.) We'd reached the thank-you portion of the concert, so while the emcee was talking, I walked around the front of the band--realize piccolo sits on the far side--and went around the back, at which point I started running. I'd already planned to put my piccolo on the back table next to the music folder slots. I didn't want to risk leaving it on my chair, and since I played piccolo only, I didn't have an instrument stand and just held it the whole night. Plus, not only did I not want to take it in the bathroom to begin with, there's no shelves in there, just the toilet and sink. There's a hallway beyond the door next to the music slots, and I ran down that way, past AD1 sitting in the wings off stage, and around the corner to the lobby where the restrooms are. Blessedly, they were empty. I did my business and ran back around the band, where I discovered the emcee was just finishing her thank-yous. Oh, wow, I didn't miss any of the music. I was sure I'd have to stand off to the side or something while the band played. Phew. Crisis averted.
We then went into a particular TV show theme song from back in the day (and a-one, and a-two…), which was known for ending the show with this song…and bubbles. Like, apparently there was a bubble machine that the show turned on. We'd attempted to do this song last year but we got about three songs into our final concert last season and it poured, rats. Well, the director brought it back, and there's no percussion parts to it--they're the bubble machine, and were handed bubbles to blow. There were some bottles left over so other band members got them. At first I was all, I'll blow bubbles! This was at rehearsal. But, as I thought about it, it was probably best I not get bubble solution all over my hands and/or instrument; that could be bad. I played instead. First chair flute, first chair oboe, and third chair bassoon (behind me) were some of the people who also took bubbles, which was pretty funny--the bassoon's bubbles kept flying over my head, cracking me up. Some of the percussionists stayed in their section, while a few walked up to the front of the stage, including the Eb player's husband. They have a young daughter of about 4 or 5, and I figured it was her up near the front of the stage while Eb's husband blew bubbles at her, super cute. It was confirmed when the song ended, he went back to his section, and the little girl was calling out, "Daddy! Daddy! Where are you, daddy?" Aw. I should also mention that close to half the band also had lyrics and were singing along! The crowd enjoyed it, to say the least.
We did one more song, and then…gulp. Okay, I can do this. I'd warned the oboe player I'd be getting up in the middle of the song and he was cool. I managed to time it just right, and I got up there and…here we go! Have I mentioned the local photographer? There's a local paper that sends a photog out to most of our concerts, and he gets some nice shots of the band. He'll even come onstage and hide behind the risers to get certain shots. He's good about taking pictures of special things, like if we have a special guest, or soloists, or whoever the sponsor is during the raffle. I'd already spotted him and knew he was there--he stood out this week because he wasn't wearing his hat. Hey, he has hair. Anyway. I'd had a feeling he'd be around for this, and there he was--I could see him moving around the front of the stage trying to get a good picture. It's the end of the concert, it's dark outside, and due to where I have to stand, the lighting isn't great, but he did get a shot of me. (Mom liked the band on Facebook and got the notification for the pictures, since the band links to the paper.) I won't say I played it perfectly, but I played it serviceably, and I'm happy with my performance. I got this. Phew. I took a bow at the end and waited for the brass to come by, because that's the second half of the stage directions--second time through the trio, the brass come up front, too. We all bow together at the very end (the director was behind us, telling us to take a bow, too), and when they file off, I go with them. Oh, gosh, I made it through. It's amazing that a song I've been playing for 25 years is one that still makes me nervous; my hands were visibly shaking afterward, like for probably 5-10 minutes. Phew.
A number of people were very complimentary of my playing, which was kind and appreciated. The people sitting around me said so, plus a few people I passed while getting my stuff together. One was the percussionist who did Avery's show; he was impressed I was all by myself, because he said my sound cut through very clearly back where he was. Good to know. And, bonus, the crotchety former librarian had been in the audience and saw me while I was still putting stuff away, asking me to come down and say hi. He was talking with someone else, so I went to say goodbye to the Eb player, whose kids were hanging around in front of the stage. I thanked her daughter for helping to conduct us during the bubble song, as she had been waving a stick around. Her son, who's about seven, thought I looked like one of his mom's cousins. Finally, the former librarian was free, and we talked for a couple minutes, but his wife was saying, we need to go; I can't stand for much longer. After a couple more minutes where he insisted on talking, she started trying to drag him away by his arm, but he's resisting, pulling against her. I'm like, go! Goodbye! (The wife was thanking me for that. Hey, I know you're tired and your legs hurt. Been there, done that. She was surprised I'd experienced that, but I told her I've worked retail, and some weeks are so long that you simply can't do it anymore.)
Blink, and you miss it; summer's over. Many kids around here go back to school this week. It honestly didn't feel like the last concert of the season, which is weird. At least we got through without any rainouts or other cancellations; we can't say that about every season.
One more tidbit from last week: It was service award time, so people got mentioned if they hit a milestone year. The person who does the awards is one of the clarinet players, and when he did the announcements during the concert, he phrased things kind of awkwardly. He announced that so-and-so hit five years, then started reading off a couple names where I'm sitting there thinking, there's no way that person has been here just five years; they've been here longer than I have! One was the Eb clarinet player's husband; another was a trombone player that had been band president recently. And then at the end of those couple names, that's when the award reader went, and those guys are celebrating 15 years with the band. Aha. When you're band president, it's a six-year commitment--two years as vice president, two years as president, then two years as immediate past president. Speaking of which, it was time for a new president. Our first-ever female president, a sax player, stepped down; one of our trombone players is now president; and the Eb player's husband is now vice president. Back to the awards, the piccolo player hit 40 years, so that was a minor bummer that she wasn't there. The director's wife was mentioned for her 50 years, though she was honored earlier this summer. And, even though it's not technically a milestone year for him, the longest-tenured band member always gets mentioned--our trombone player with something like 72 years of service, no joke. God bless him. This was the first year he didn't march in the parade, so he is conceding a bit to age, but he still plays.
On to this week. I'd taken my Wednesday trip to the arboretum, and I remembered my bug band this time. It was only lemongrass, not combined with lavender, but it still helps. (Mom still had custody of the lavender at that time and I didn't want to have to go into her room to dig around for it while she was sleeping. She gave it to me this weekend for keeps, at least.) I got in and put my stuff down, and while talking to AD2's husband, the director came over with what he called his albatross--some sort of machine deal that was connected to him to help clear out the infection from his old pacemaker, probably similar to the IV my grandma had when she was fighting off the infection from her ruptured appendix. It was battery-powered and looked like a small tote of sorts, and there was a long tube with a clear liquid in it. The director was complaining that the tube got tangled with the carrying strap, and he was hoping one of our French horn players, a nurse, could help him with that. I took a look at it briefly and it was not a quick fix; the carrying strap's handles were attached to the tote, so it's not like you could unclip one side, pull it out from the tube, and reattach it. You'd have to take out the little machine connected to the tube and carefully untangle everything. Yeah, better leave that to her just in case. He wore the tote sort of crossbody so it wouldn't slip off his shoulder.
The director was under orders to keep his arms down still, though he figured he could direct like our military guest conductor earlier this summer (that would be "tempo di that guy"). That gentleman keeps his hands low and doesn't use a baton, because at one point a baton slipped out of his hand and the front row ducked for cover, and after that…hands alone. The director split this concert with AD1. The director told a story of how he knew some guy who was very critical about how bands perform marches--they're both on the Sousa committee for evaluating community bands, I think--and the guy was at one of our performances in Texas a few years back. Afterward, the guy walked up to the director, who was thinking, oh, no…but the guy said, you've set a new bar for marches performed by community bands, something like that. Our director loves marches and apparently, to other ears, gets us to play them in a particular way. …I'm thinking it's just the sheer number of them we perform, since it's not uncommon for us to do 3-4 per show. (I put away all my music left over from this year earlier today, and the stack of marches to go back in the binders was heads and tails over the rest of the categories, like two dozen of them. If I had four of any other category, it was a lot.) Anyway, the director did nearly all the marches plus the last few songs, and AD1 did the rest. AD1 mentioned having two pieces he was concerned about. One was early on in the itinerary, likely the overture, and the other seemed simple enough, programmed because it had "September" in the title. I asked him, what, are you singing it? I couldn't figure out why he'd be so worried about it. He went, no, I'm not singing it, and to his relief I'm sure, it was cut by the director before we ever played it, oh darn.
When I arrived, I put my stuff in my normal chair and got all the second flute music. Two-Chairs-Down and my stand partner were due back from their vacations and I was eager to hear how they were. I went over to the section leader to tell her I wouldn't be at the Labor Day parade due to my cousin's wedding. She noticed my stuff and said, you do know that the piccolo player is still out of town, right? …Uh…no… So guess who played piccolo for a second week in a row! Bonus: We always--ALWAYS--end the season with "Stars and Stripes Forever." You know what that means. And…I would be doing it entirely alone. The section leader was telling the other flutes, you're welcome to bring your piccs and play the solo the second time through, but the first time, it's just going to be her. GREAT. Good thing I did pull it out and practice it (on flute) this week! It's been a couple decades since I performed it solo, and all I could think about was how, the very first time I did it here (thankfully as a duet), I blanked on half of it. Thank goodness I did have those three earlier shows this summer where I got in my practicing. Okay, I have a day to mentally prepare for this…it'll be okay.
What's amusing to me is that I totally had the chance to copy all the piccolo music last week, since I had access to that manila folder. I opted not to since I didn't think I was playing it, plus none of the music was super interesting, at least that I didn't already have. Naturally, I'd practiced all the 2nd flute music, which isn't often the same, but again this was a much easier concert than last week's so of everything we did, the overture was the hardest. Part of it is that it looks like piano music--this is one of the rare songs that has first and second flutes plus the piccolo all in one score, and the flutes have the top line and the piccolo has the bottom, so the entire thing is two staves all the way through. It turns a 3-4 page number into 8 pages, which is kind of a pain, but at the same time makes it easy to know where the piccolo is in the music during long breaks, since the flutes are still playing at times. It was a well-known piece by Strauss that I knew I couldn't play as written on one rehearsal, so I cheated. I skipped a number of the doodles and just played downbeats, or quarter notes with accents between them, that sort of thing. Unless someone in the audience was a complete musical nerd with knowledge of the piccolo part, they'd never know. I think everything else I was able to play as-is. The only trouble I had then was figuring out which parts I had and which parts I needed the hard copies for, which was mildly stressful at times. I ended up having to go home and sort through all the music, then copy what I was missing for the future; it would be too much work to get it absolutely all prepared the way I like it with sheet protectors and everything for my binder. But, well, now I have the copies. I went to bed later than usual that night, since I spent probably an hour after I got home dealing with music--and since AD1 did about half the concert, we ran long and I didn't get home 'til after 10--and I didn't sleep well. This could get interesting.
Thursday, day of the concert. I came to band from a different direction and was able to spot a really good parking spot--about as close as I was going to get to the band building, sweet. I mean, I *am* the star of the show *cough*. I'd worn a tank top I'd embellished with hot-fix crystals, so when I got inside and the percussion section leader gave me crap for wearing the wrong uniform, I jokingly said, I am the stars in the stars and stripes! See, I twinkle! That got a laugh (though, alas, I did not actually say the twinkle part there). We had all the summer flutes in the section this week, plus two oboes--AD1 recruited one of his students, the same one who'd played with us at the Fourth of July concert. I still think he looks like our one trombone player, who was made a member the night before. It was her and someone else…oh, I think the one tenor sax player. The membership person, that clarinet player who keeps the service records, he also said something about a young clarinet player who sat behind him possibly qualifying to become a member, but she is very young-looking and I don't think she qualifies yet--it looked like the people around him were correcting him and he went, never mind! Sorry, dear; maybe next year. It's possible she just graduated from high school.
While I'd been sitting outside, reading my paper and eating dinner, I noticed…oh, no. The local cable channel is here to record this concert. GREAT. Okay, maybe there's a chance we won't go up front because of that… Yeah, no, we're doing the stage directions. Sigh. So I'm sitting on a bench and eating my dinner, including grapes, when one of the French horn players comes over. She's another early bird and is the one who has something like 56 years of service to the band. While I was eating, I started choking a bit on a grape; I think some of the liquid inside trickled down the wrong pipe, because I wasn't choking on food matter. It took a couple minutes for me to stop coughing, and she asked if I needed a whack on the back. (I see you went to the same first aid class as my mom, heh.) I calmed down and finished my meal, and we finished talking, and I went inside to freshen up.
The concert was going along okay. We got through the first half just fine, no major mishaps or anything. We had two marches in the first half for the director to conduct, and one was in honor of our newest band president, one of the trombone players, who happened to go to Northwestern. The march we did was by Karl King in response to why the NU director didn't play a lot of his marches--because the trombones complained that their parts were boring. Don't ever say that to a composer! King's response was a difficult dogfight section for them. For one rehearsal, it was pretty passable.
We hit the raffle and…oh, crap, I *really* have to go to the bathroom. Stupid grapes and their wateriness! Sigh. I think I realized it too late to go during the raffle itself. Oh, I pulled out the concert itinerary, and we actually did the NU song post raffle. We did a musical medley (your hint: Do you hear the people sing?), then a bunch of college songs in a medley. That was done by the director, but we had a rolloff, the conductors switched, and we went right into a march for U of I, conducted by AD1, an alum. By now I was getting kind of nervous--oh, gosh, I'm not going to make it to the end of the concert. I was totally fearful of wetting my pants in front of God and everyone. We hit another medley (by a composer who likes syncopated clocks), and at this point I was crossing my feet at the ankles and my legs were tense. Realize that proper playing position is feet flat on the floor for good posture and breath support, and I do that the vast majority of the time. I just couldn't right then; I felt pretty awkward. However, hope was coming! Following the medley, there were a couple songs where it wasn't necessary for me to play. I'd already told the oboe kid I'd probably go to the bathroom at some point, and I let 6th flute know as well. I feared inciting panic in the rest of the flute section since, y'know, I have a pretty important part coming and none of them cared to take it over. (I'd jokingly asked 6th flute if she wanted to duet with me; she was like, it's all you! Great.) We'd reached the thank-you portion of the concert, so while the emcee was talking, I walked around the front of the band--realize piccolo sits on the far side--and went around the back, at which point I started running. I'd already planned to put my piccolo on the back table next to the music folder slots. I didn't want to risk leaving it on my chair, and since I played piccolo only, I didn't have an instrument stand and just held it the whole night. Plus, not only did I not want to take it in the bathroom to begin with, there's no shelves in there, just the toilet and sink. There's a hallway beyond the door next to the music slots, and I ran down that way, past AD1 sitting in the wings off stage, and around the corner to the lobby where the restrooms are. Blessedly, they were empty. I did my business and ran back around the band, where I discovered the emcee was just finishing her thank-yous. Oh, wow, I didn't miss any of the music. I was sure I'd have to stand off to the side or something while the band played. Phew. Crisis averted.
We then went into a particular TV show theme song from back in the day (and a-one, and a-two…), which was known for ending the show with this song…and bubbles. Like, apparently there was a bubble machine that the show turned on. We'd attempted to do this song last year but we got about three songs into our final concert last season and it poured, rats. Well, the director brought it back, and there's no percussion parts to it--they're the bubble machine, and were handed bubbles to blow. There were some bottles left over so other band members got them. At first I was all, I'll blow bubbles! This was at rehearsal. But, as I thought about it, it was probably best I not get bubble solution all over my hands and/or instrument; that could be bad. I played instead. First chair flute, first chair oboe, and third chair bassoon (behind me) were some of the people who also took bubbles, which was pretty funny--the bassoon's bubbles kept flying over my head, cracking me up. Some of the percussionists stayed in their section, while a few walked up to the front of the stage, including the Eb player's husband. They have a young daughter of about 4 or 5, and I figured it was her up near the front of the stage while Eb's husband blew bubbles at her, super cute. It was confirmed when the song ended, he went back to his section, and the little girl was calling out, "Daddy! Daddy! Where are you, daddy?" Aw. I should also mention that close to half the band also had lyrics and were singing along! The crowd enjoyed it, to say the least.
We did one more song, and then…gulp. Okay, I can do this. I'd warned the oboe player I'd be getting up in the middle of the song and he was cool. I managed to time it just right, and I got up there and…here we go! Have I mentioned the local photographer? There's a local paper that sends a photog out to most of our concerts, and he gets some nice shots of the band. He'll even come onstage and hide behind the risers to get certain shots. He's good about taking pictures of special things, like if we have a special guest, or soloists, or whoever the sponsor is during the raffle. I'd already spotted him and knew he was there--he stood out this week because he wasn't wearing his hat. Hey, he has hair. Anyway. I'd had a feeling he'd be around for this, and there he was--I could see him moving around the front of the stage trying to get a good picture. It's the end of the concert, it's dark outside, and due to where I have to stand, the lighting isn't great, but he did get a shot of me. (Mom liked the band on Facebook and got the notification for the pictures, since the band links to the paper.) I won't say I played it perfectly, but I played it serviceably, and I'm happy with my performance. I got this. Phew. I took a bow at the end and waited for the brass to come by, because that's the second half of the stage directions--second time through the trio, the brass come up front, too. We all bow together at the very end (the director was behind us, telling us to take a bow, too), and when they file off, I go with them. Oh, gosh, I made it through. It's amazing that a song I've been playing for 25 years is one that still makes me nervous; my hands were visibly shaking afterward, like for probably 5-10 minutes. Phew.
A number of people were very complimentary of my playing, which was kind and appreciated. The people sitting around me said so, plus a few people I passed while getting my stuff together. One was the percussionist who did Avery's show; he was impressed I was all by myself, because he said my sound cut through very clearly back where he was. Good to know. And, bonus, the crotchety former librarian had been in the audience and saw me while I was still putting stuff away, asking me to come down and say hi. He was talking with someone else, so I went to say goodbye to the Eb player, whose kids were hanging around in front of the stage. I thanked her daughter for helping to conduct us during the bubble song, as she had been waving a stick around. Her son, who's about seven, thought I looked like one of his mom's cousins. Finally, the former librarian was free, and we talked for a couple minutes, but his wife was saying, we need to go; I can't stand for much longer. After a couple more minutes where he insisted on talking, she started trying to drag him away by his arm, but he's resisting, pulling against her. I'm like, go! Goodbye! (The wife was thanking me for that. Hey, I know you're tired and your legs hurt. Been there, done that. She was surprised I'd experienced that, but I told her I've worked retail, and some weeks are so long that you simply can't do it anymore.)
Blink, and you miss it; summer's over. Many kids around here go back to school this week. It honestly didn't feel like the last concert of the season, which is weird. At least we got through without any rainouts or other cancellations; we can't say that about every season.