(no subject)

[tangerinekiss]

“We live in a
moment of history where change is so speeded up that we begin to see the
present only when it is already disappearing.”

R. D. Laing

“Just wait until October,” she said to
me.  “Just wait until October and all of
this will be worth it.”

            I looked at her, eyebrows
raised.  There was no way that this could
ever be worth anything; October seemed ages away from the hot August afternoon
we were spending on a football field. 
The day seemed never ending, and I stood, drenched in sweat and covered
in sunburn, waiting for our director to look at us and say  “Let’s do that one more time” which really
meant “Let’s do that again and again until I’m satisfied, then one more time to
make sure it wasn’t a mistake.”

            Correctly interpreting the look on
my face, she said, “I promise, it seems far away now, but before you know it,
the season will be over.  October is the
halfway point, when every thing starts to become perfect.  And I promise, the day you go to the
Montclair Marching Band Festival, you’ll understand.  You’ll do this company front, and it will be
perfect—you’ll get chills.”

            “Well, If you said so,” I said, only
to appease her.  I had heard her words
but would not consider their meaning until much later.  The company front hardly seemed important in
a 12 minute marching band show: A twenty-second segment of marching where the
whole detail faced front and marched towards the sideline hardly seemed like a
pinnacle to a color guard member who was in the front of the field for most of
the show.  Regardless, I spent another
half hour rehearsing this one section of the show with the rest of the band,
making sure I understood every step of it, waiting hopefully for the director’s
voice to say, “Okay, find your spot on the next page.”

            After band camp, the season
progressed quickly; as a freshman, I quickly mastered the new skills presented
to me and was shocked that I was good at something.  For a time, I forgot what she had said to me
at band camp.  As the date for the band
festival drew closer, our directors rehearsed us with a new zeal.  It seemed that they wanted us to be better,
better, better, even when I felt like everyone on the field had to be giving
every rehearsal their all.  I wanted to
know why this moment would be so important. 
I did not understand why this foreign moment would become one of such
accomplishment for me, but everyone said that, without a doubt, it would.  I was not expecting the Montclair Marching
Band Festival to be one of my most perfect moments, but when I look back on my
high school career, it certainly qualifies.

            The day of Montclair was a typical
brisk autumn day, but it seemed that everyone wanted it to be something much
less ordinary.  I, along with the other
freshmen in the band, did not really know what to expect.  We were told that there would be more than a
thousand people at Montclair State University waiting to watch twelve bands
perform and that we would be getting dinner afterwards, but we did not full
understand the big deal.  When we arrived
at the college, no one was nervous or excited. 
We took our seats in the cold concrete bleachers on the visitor’s side
of the field.  The position was not
optimal for watching the other bands, but we managed to enjoy ourselves
regardless.  Finally, the moment of our
warm-up approached.

            “Guard!” came the call of our
instructor.

            “Yes?” we asked apprehensively, not
wanting to take our eyes off the dazzling performance in front of us.

            “Get your flags and get ready to
warm up!  We’re going into the gym,” she
commanded us.

We
sighed, put a few finishing touches on our make-up, and headed toward the gym.  Upon entering the building, we were greeted
by a warm burst of air, far more comfortable than the chill outside.  After allowing our hands to defrost, we
picked up flags and started warming up. 
Our show had one toss—just one toss—and in our entire warm up sessions,
I failed to catch it once.  Ordinarily, I
never missed this toss and I hoped that this was not a sign of the way the show
would turn out.  Luckily, I would not be
disappointed by my performance.

One
hurried phone call ended our warm up time. 
Our instructor received a phone call from our band director who was on
the edge of a panic attack because we were set to perform in 7 minutes and the
guard was still in the gym.  Rolling our
eyes, we gathered our flags and lined up with the band in the blistering cold.
After what seemed like ages, our drum major called, “DETAIL, ATTEN-HUT!”

“HUT!”
the band responded, a shout full of nerves, excitement, and energy.  The drum line started our familiar cadence,
after a deep breath, we proceeded onto the field, and the stadium’s speakers
boomed with the announcer’s voice telling of our show theme, drum major, and
staff members.  Finally, the moment of
the show was here and as I looked into the stands, my breath caught in my
throat.  Before I could attempt to breathe
again, the fast-paced show had began and was nearly at the conclusion.Â

Then
it hit me—the moment of the company front. 
I was not expecting much, but as I saw the band form in a perfect line
with the guard arched behind, I saw a small sliver of perfection; as everyone
turned around, completing the move, I had my first taste of the cake, carefully
frosted since that first august day.

In
this moment, I realized so many lessons. 
First, I learned that hard work really does pay of in the end.  After months of hard work, one moment made
every sweaty Saturday rehearsal worth enduring. 
Second, I learned that discipline enables success.  At the Montclair Band Festival, the color guard’s
punctuality was tested.  Although we were
somewhat delayed, we managed to squeeze in and have a successful show.  As the band lined up before the drummers
began their cadence, they stood as still as statues, horns in the air and eyes
with pride.  Our discipline allowed us to
have the performance of a lifetime. 
Third, I learned that perfection actually exists.  Through all of our hard work and discipline,
we were able to reach perfection.  Even
with a few flaws in our performance, it was perfect because every single member
of the detail left every part of themselves on the field.  We finished the company front in an explosion
of raw sound, sweat, and complete passion. 
Each and every person on that field learned that perfection is not the
absence of mistakes but the mentality at which you look at an event.  Perfection is the breakdown of a moment and
the realization that in and of it self, that moment is unflawed.  Lastly, and most importantly, I learned that
turning around in the company front really can give you chills.

maybe?