This one time...

I played xylophone in the marching band for four years.

Now, mind you, there was no marching involved. So, if you're keeping track, I was a joke even to the band nerds. As far as the totem pole of date-ability goes, I was wiping the dust off the bottom of it, ok? Technically, our section was called "the pit". Oh, I'm sorry... didn't I mention Kristin and I did this together? Twin, brace-faced (well, she was), eager, obnoxious friendly, xylophone playing nerds rocking the side lines of a football field day in and day out.

There was such a system to it. For starters, one had to audition (my first experience in the world of self promotion) for the honor of being part of the marching Greenwave band. Again... I'm sorry. That was our mascot. We were a big deal in coastal South Carolina, people. Made famous by our football coach, John McKissick. (My freshman year he broke the record with 406 wins and this article was written. Rumor has it, he was going to be the cover story but Michael Jordan came out of retirement and snagged the cover. The luck.) So, to say that Friday nights were electric with school spirit is a huge understatement. I think it is the reason I love the show Friday Night Lights so much- its nostalgic.

Back to the band. Our fear-inducing leader was a man named Marty Lyles. In my 13 year old estimation, he could have scared Stalin. The man ran a tight ship... well, he probably had to. There were something like 250 of us. You know the movie "Mr. Holland's Opus" where Richard Dreyfuss plays this amazing dude who shapes the futures of so many young musicians' lives by lovingly pushing them to be all they could be? That's not like Mr. Lyles. He ruled with an iron fist and, to this day, I'm not entirely sure how he got away with it. Technology would never allow it now. You humiliate a trumpet player armed with an iphone and your name is mud. He'll tweet your ass outta town. Then, we were armed only with the large, first generation bag phones our dad kept in the glove box of the '87 Toyota Supra we drove. Hardly a town crier.

So, you can imagine how mercilessly we mocked the man behind his back. No one would have ever had the nerve to actually talk back to him. Still, we showed up on time (early) for everything in order to earn the much-coveted letter. Y'all. This letter (for the jacket I never got) was the hardest to earn at our High School. Seems backwards right? Well, we were a fine program. We marched our way through dozens of games, competitions and state finals. We even marched in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in 1994 (is that right, dad?). What? You watched it that year? You saw Kristin and me carrying the banner at the front (just behind Joey Lawrence on an enormous octopus float)? I Figured.

If I left you thinking it was all ridiculous, I'd be lying. I actually had fun in the band some times. Its where I learned how to stick to something long after I wanted to quit, how to polish brass buttons til they're shiny as gold and how to nearly burst with pride while pouring my heart in to something. I could tell you about the band's annual Cupcake Day wherein a couple hundred high schoolers would eat their weight in homemade cupcakes or how each August was cut short because we spent two weeks (yes, technically "band camp") practicing before school began. We traveled all over and some of my funniest memories are from that time. I even learned to play that sucker with four mallets, but who wants to brag?

I smile with equal parts joy and sympathy when I hear the familiar cadence of a local high school band. One day, I may even get up the nerve to show you the tasty photos taken each year... just me and my mallets. You know? I bet I'd go back for a day if I could. I'd probably spend the whole day laughing at how badly I wanted to fit in and the choice of clothing I selected. I'd probably also understand Mr. Lyles a lot more. And I'd smile.