“I’ll ask your dad but I think it will be okay if you want
to be in band,” I told Daughter # 1.
“I really, really want to, Mom,” she said, “I hope he’ll say
that it’s okay.”
So began the days of practicing, marching, band concerts,
band trips, competitions, etc. for Daughter # 1. Piano had interested her in
the beginning but it didn’t hold the excitement she thought band would. So, she
chose the clarinet. Bringing it home to practice
that first evening was quite a treat.
She hadn’t learned to play any songs but just being able to blow into it; place her
fingers on the key holes and get some sort of pleasing sound was such a treat. Eventually,
just random sounds developed into actual songs as Daughter # 1 continued to
practice her chosen instrument.
“Mom, MOM! Make her quit blowing that horn in here! I can’t
practice my piano and I have a lesson tomorrow,” yelled Daughter # 2.
“YOU stay at this piano and practice and YOU go back to your
room to blow that horn or take it outside!” I said, pointing at each of them as
I spoke.
And, so began the many afternoons and evenings of musical
conflict in our home. But what joy it was to watch Daughter # 1, donned in her
brand new band uniform, marching in the local fair parade and other parades
around the area. The band had been the
lucky recipient of much needed uniforms provided by a man who had grown up in
this area; had gone on to open a lot of chain stores and had now given back to
his community.
In a few short years, Daughter # 2 joined the ranks of the
bandies. She never gave up her piano but
added an alto sax to the mix. Now both daughters were bringing home horns to
show their dad and me the latest tunes they had learned to play. And, it was the beginning of what seemed like
endless nights of setting out in the cold on the hard bleachers at a football
game just to hear our daughters play and watch them march. Often we found
ourselves setting inside a stifling hot gym at a basketball just to hear the
band play from the bleachers. There were also those horribly cold Branson and
Harrison Christmas parades to endure.And, now, Daughter # 2 had attained the rank of drum major, which meant
a scantier mode of dress in the biting cold.
Both daughters survived the rigorous practices with only one
of them passing out once during the summer while on a very hot practice field.
Memories of those years are precious. It’s wonderful to be able to think back to
not only the difficult times of scheduling our work activities around our
girl’s band activities, but the joyful times seeing their smiling faces as they
recognized us in the crowd.
Occasionally, they would sneak a small wave to us when they should have
been paying attention to the band director. It’s great to pull out the photo
albums and relive those times.
And, once again, as a parent of daughters who participated
in musical activities and grandchildren who have followed in their footsteps,
let me encourage you to make time for those activities your children love and
excel in. Encourage their efforts when their horn squeaks because their finger
wasn’t exactly where it should have been on their horn or when a sour note is
sung or played on the piano. This is a
part of the learning process and a part of the memories they also have and can
pass on to their children and grandchildren.
“Then the seventh angel blew his trumpet, and there were
loud voices in heaven, saying, “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom
of our Lord and of his Christ, and he shall reign forever and ever.” Revelation
11: 15 ESV
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