Marching band season ended at a freezing cold football stadium in November. But since indoor season ended in May, we got to go to the beach.
I believe we started out The Beatles Year in the intermediate division, but it didn’t take long for our scores to push us up to advanced. Now we would find out if we were just a junior version of the Velvet Knights, or were we something more.
Showmanship and intensity, pride and dedication. Those weren’t the only things we had going for us.
We were also really god damn entertaining.
Kids are the worst.
Take a marching band, remove the horns, put them in a gym instead of a football stadium and poof! You have Indoor Percussion.
So let’s get into the basics for those of you unfamiliar with the world of competitive marching bands.
Twelve years old seems young to me. A lot of my friends have twelve-year-olds. My oldest nephew is twelve (or he was when I started writing this). I remember him as a baby and I’ve watched him grow from a toddler to a young man. But still, he’s super young. Twelve years old is super young.
We are all shaped by the events in our lives that unfold before us. Not a lot of people can point to one specific event, or series of events, that led them to become the person they are.
But I can.
Once upon a time, there was an orange. He was a very grumpy orange. Everyday, he woke up in the morning and grumped about in his big white house.
Wow, 2016 was a crazy year for the Miller Family!