Mom—A Woman with a
Background
Intelligence
When my
family moved to the small rural county of
My Mom
assured us that once school started we would meet people and get more involved
so I walked off to 7th grade at the middle school as my brother
began his sophomore year in high school that September. Mom made sure that my
brother was enrolled in band since that had been a successful venture for him
in our previous home. She kept asking him about playing at football games and
getting his uniform cleaned and his sullen, mono-syllable replies assured her
he was on target for this. When the first foot ball game rolled around he
grabbed his French Horn and walked off to the game (they played at the middle
school until they could raise enough money to build a field at the high
school).
“But
where’s your uniform?” demanded my Mother as she bundled up to go watch a
portion of the game while she waited for her son’s performance.
“This is
it” said David, pointing to his jeans and plaid shirt, “They told me to just
dress comfortably for sitting in the stands.”
“I’ll need
to see this for myself” said Mom and off we went to our first Lancaster High
School Red Devils football game.
The band
sat together in the stands and played one song, the fight song. They played it
at the beginning, at half-time, and if they had enough band members still in
the stands, they’d play it at the end of the game. There were about 20 band
members representing the student body of approximately 400 students in 8th-12th
grades.
Some say a woman scorned is a force to be reckoned
with, but in my world a Mother on a mission will lay her flat every time. My
Mother had her mission—return the marching band to
The Goal
She started
by forming a band boosters and getting the power of parents behind the idea of
a marching band. Then she went to the school board and convinced them to hire a
full time teacher/band director instead of the part-time businessman than held
the job currently. She coordinated the search to hire a director and assisted
in recruiting a young, ambitious talent from
Mom worked
hard to get Ernie and his family settled and happy so that he could concentrate
on this new venture starting in the summer of 1974. When they went to check out
the uniforms that had been packed away a few years back, they were faced with
crumbling yellowed fabric and mold on about 10 full uniforms. This would not
do, they weren’t even red. So the campaign began for new uniforms.
Mom headed
back to the school board to tell them she needed $10,000.00 for band uniforms.
The school board members that could stop laughing long enough told her if she
raised half, they’d match it—fully believing this woman had good intentions but
no idea of what she was doing.
And so
began the summer of the band. Band practice started before football practice
that summer. Ernie deliberately lined us all up in the front yard of the high
school where as many passing cars as possible would see us. He brought in a
majorette coach and six majorettes essentially recruited by word of mouth and
including me as rising eighth-grader with no instrument experience. He
practiced without instruments as much as with them so we could all learn to
march in a straight line starting with our left foot. Which one is left M. Ray?
The one that hurts because Mr. Craig just stepped on it!
Learning
the Steps
The band
learned one song that summer, “Sweet Caroline.” The majorettes learned one
routine, “Sweet Caroline.” In between practices that summer and for the entire
next year we held fund-raisers. It felt like we washed every car in the county,
we sold every ounce of flour ever baked into cupcakes and we just kept working.
By the
first football game we had earned enough to clothe the entire band in sweatshirts
and the majorettes in matching tee shirts that said Red Devil Marching Band. We
paired them with jeans and we wore them with pride as we marched onto the field
for our first half-time show—a rousing rendition of “Sweet Caroline” with fancy
(well at least coordinating) footwork and twirling batons. We were led on field
by the arched back and fluid movements of Keith Wood, a tall handsome sophomore
with enough presence to fill a stage by himself and enough rhythm to power a
drum line.
We
continued to raise money and Mom placed a big thermometer in town with
fundraising goals and achievements painted in. She and Ernie selected the
uniform for our band and had a sample made to fit my rather unwilling model of
a brother. The newspaper published pictures, the practices and the car washes kept
going. The band traveled to away games and performed, we began learning parade
formations, and a few more songs too like the “The Horse” and a new arrangement
of the fight song.
Our First Overnight Competition
We were
having fun. The more fun we had, the more people that wanted to join in. We
moved into basketball season with a few new members and growing enthusiasm. We
began traveling to parades in the spring and competing against much larger,
more uniformly dressed bands. The competitions were tight, but we found
ourselves winning a few and feeling like a million dollars. Ernie decided he
wanted to take the band to the Apple Blossom Festival in
A few phone
calls later, Mom had arranged for housing and meals at the United Methodist affiliated
school, Shenandoah Conservatory of Music. (It pays to be the preacher’s wife).
The school board allotted the buses and drivers with the codicil that we must
have enough chaperones and we were on our way to
We had
practiced around the parking lot for weeks to prepare for the 7 mile march in
When
Robin’s elegant and seemingly unerring mother tripped over an orange traffic
cone she just said, “That’s why they call me Grace.” as she smiled and kept
going. There’s nothing like having your
Mom along on a school trip. Mine was keeping pace with the horn section and
beaming with pride.
We reached
the judges stand near the end of the route where Keith called us to attention. At
the sound of his whistle and the wave of a baton we played and twirled our
hearts out for those judges. It was only about 3-minutes, but it felt like the
most incredible merger of sound and movement I’ve ever experienced. I was with
my family, my best friends, my first boyfriend, my most admired teachers, and I
was part of something so much bigger than me. It was amazing.
After
performing and saluting we moved forward and practically flew back to the dorm
to change clothes, eat, and wait for the scores to come in. No matter what we
scored, against all those bands that seemed to have so much more than we did,
we knew we’d done something special that day. Finally the scores were delivered
and we all shouted until we were hoarse when we heard that we’d ranked number 1
in our class and the judges’ comment was, “The little red band with the great
big sound.”
Of
course we got those uniforms
You bet we
did, by the following fall they were in our band room with names embroidered in
each one. Lancaster High School Band is still wearing those uniforms today and
if you look closely inside the oldest 50 uniforms, you’ll see names like