The life of the band geek in high school is an interesting tale. There are levels of band geeks, you have your top tier (future music teachers or first chair musicians), your middle class (the ones who knew what it all meant and could help others out), and then there’s me. I was part of the group that was there to just kind of hang out. Yeah, I knew all my notes and pitches, at one time at least, but that’s not the point of band. Most people think band is all about the love and appreciation of music. But for those of us that truly experienced band life it means so much more. It is a bond, a family, and a lifestyle.

The best part about band was the people in it. We all have that one friend or group that we could never have gone without through high school. For band kids, it was the entire band, yeah there’s some people you talk to more than others but we were all a family. The funny part was that the individual sections made up each family member. Of course, the director was our parent(s), then you have the horns and trumpets. They are more of the arrogant older sibling that thinks they know it all. You have the saxophones who were kind of like the middle child, everyone kind of forgets about them and no one really cares what they have to say during rehearsal. Then there's the low brass, the youngest child. Not many come to see them, but they always have to hear about them boast about themselves. Let’s not forget the percussion, they’re more like the crazy uncle that everyone loves to talk to but can only handle so much of them.

I feel like I am forgetting something… Oh yeah, the flutes! They’re the side of the family who no one talks to anymore. I think one of the more amazing things that we got out of band was the feeling that we got when we nailed it. It’s something that can't really be explained in words. We band people all know the feeling though, when the last note is played and it is still ringing, the horns go down, all is calm but our hearts are pounding, hands shaking, and our eyes are enormous. The most nervous a musician can get is not before or during, it’s after. For the split second in between horns down and the applause. For in that moment we all review the entire performance, we criticize ourselves on every note, and every now and then we just know we nailed it. It is not until we read the audience on their response, when the thunderous applause rolls in, and you leave a speechless look on the director's face, you can’t help but to smile.

People that were never in band will never understand what we all had. We had an unbreakable bond. They will never understand why when they try to shake a trumpet player’s hand they raise it higher than theirs. Or why when they try to make fun of us we just smile and take it, because we know they have no idea what they’re talking about. No one will ever understand why we were all eager to go outside for class when it was ten degrees or a hundred and march for an hour.

As someone who has been there and done it and has moved on to bigger things, it is something that has shaped me into the person I have become. Band is more than learning notes and rhythm, it is also about learning about yourself and how to sit on a bus for 18 hours to Disney World. Band is not just some group people join to get free credits, band is a brotherhood of misunderstood people, it is a saving grace for the misguided, and it is a family for the unloved.

Yeah, we would have all gotten through the years without band, but none of us would have understood the hardships of getting up at 4:30 for competitions. We would never have known just how hard it was to hit that one note, that one stupid note that no tuba should ever see on a sheet of music. We would never have gotten goosebumps while playing our schools loyalty at our first football game, and our last. I still to this day do not know what was harder, first figuring out how to read drill and memorize my drill or taking my last steps to my last ever spot in my last show. I will never again play my schools loyalty or play “Hey Baby” and I will never again throw a Sousa over my shoulder.

It took me one day after my last show to realize that I would never walk out as a Marching Redskin ever again, but it has taken me two years to realize all the never-agains I get to think about, and all the great memories.

Although I miss it like crazy I am happy it is over. I may never march on that field with the lights hitting off my bell again but I can now reminisce on all the great memories I made. Here’s to you Morris.

Far above Illini’s waters

With the waves of blue,

Stands our noble Alma Mater

Glorious to view.

Lift the chorus, speed it onward

Loud her praises tell.

Hail to thee, our Alma Mater

Morris, Hail to you