Over the past two days, I'd noticed an unusual number of large tour buses crossing the bridge and on the roads into Kingston. On my way to pick up May, I noticed something was going on at the stadium. Then I passed the large lawn in front of an insurance building and saw an honest to gosh drum line drilling.
Oh no! Drum and Bugle Corps Competition! Tonight! I'm going to miss it! I love drum lines! Oh, no! This is a top-of-the-line competition, too. Blue Devils and Phantoms and everything! How did I miss that?
By not reading the newspaper, you idiot.
After I dropped May off, after the dance show, I went to the stadium to see if maybe I could catch the end of the competition, but they had the bands all massed in the middle, and were handing out the trophies.
Damn. I love those competitions. You know, I'd have blown off the dance show if I'd known.
I haven't been in years.
The last time I went I had a really good seat, right down in center front. I was sitting there before the competition started, and a black man walked up with two very small boys. He settled them next to me, and said "Now I'll be up there, just up there (pointing up the stands). You stay right here and don't move. I'm just up there. Don't worry." As he was walking away, I stopped him and asked if he'd like to trade seats, so he could sit with the boys.
He was surprised and grateful. He took me up the stands to show me where his seat was, and to introduce me to my new seat-neighbors, all nice-looking black guys in their (probably) early thirties.
I was amply rewarded for my impulsive gift. I was now sitting right smack in the middle of the all-grown-up-now drum line from the old defunct Kingston corps! They took over my education. They explained why some things are tricky. They showed me what to watch for. They pointed out the good stuff, and the stuff that looks good but doesn't get the points. They explained the scoring. I think they were happy to have an appreciative student. They had purposely got seats at the top so they could stand up and jump up and down when something exciting happened. When they did get up, the men on either side of me picked me up and held me up high so I could cheer, too. I had an absolute ball! I loved it!
They told me that some of those all-grown-up-looking marchers out there were only like 13 years old, that you age out at 21, that the average age is young because if a member goes off to college, they usually drop out because practice is all-consuming.
They were all relatively successful now in careers and business, and they gave total credit to the corps. How they'd been picked up off the street corners, how they learned and loved the drills, how much they'd learned from it. The discipline. The confidence and vision.
I asked why Kingston no longer had a drum & bugle corps, and they got all sad. They wished there were one. I asked if it would be possible to start one up again, what would it take. There are so many kids out there now who need it. By the end of the competition, they were discussing funding sources.
I read in the paper a year or so later that Kingston (or maybe it was Port Ewen) had a new junior corps. I wonder if it was those guys. I wonder if I was present at its birth. I'm gonna have to check on the corps, find out what they're doing. They should be a senior corps by now. I wonder if they compete. I wonder if they compete in Kingston. Agh. It's going to be a whole year until the next competition. I'll try harder to get to it. It's much better in person than on tv.
I hadn't realized how much I miss it, until I realized I'd missed it.
~~Silk
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