Marching band season is now in full swing at my former high school. The other day, my friend sent me a video of their final performance at practice, and damn, I was grinning like the Cheshire Cat the whole time. Part of it was pride in how much better they’d gotten this year, but much was also because it reminded me of my favorite memories of marching band.

In high school, I marched clarinet for four years and served two as drum major. Those latter two years were hugely impactful, defining me as the person I am today. In all, it was fair to say that I lived and breathed marching band while I was in high school. However, I made the deliberate decision to not bring my instrument with me to college (not that William and Mary even has a marching band, but never mind). And, while I’m happy with that decision, I’ve also come to realize how amazing marching band could be.

1. The camaraderie

I’ve always said that my favorite part of marching band was the people. I made some of my best friends in high school through the music program, largely because we shared one common experience that people who weren’t in band can never fully comprehend. They stand by your side when you get yelled at by the instructors and write you silly notes on your candygrams and cover for you when you forget a glove or miss a note. Whether it was suffering through a miserably cold practice, or sharing a look of exasperation as the director forgot what set we were on (again), or gripping each other’s hands right before our score was called at a competition, the friends I made through marching band were and are truly invaluable.

2. The anticipation

It’s what all those grueling practices lead to, and few moments are as intense as that intake of breath before the first beat of a show. When you’re standing at attention on the field, shivering in that marching band uniform that’s totally useless at protecting your from either sun or cold, you’re filled with this extraordinary energy that you want to release all at once. There’s that bubbling nervousness, that voice inside you wondering whether you’ll make that set or hit that high note. As drum major, it was an incredibly powerful feeling beginning the show and seeing it unfold in that glorious opening moment. Despite the exhaustion and self-criticism that came later, that moment of pent-up energy made all your hard work worth it.

3. The final result

Whether it was a successful show or not, there was always something amazing about seeing all the cogs come together and work as one whole. The first two years I marched clarinet, I got such a thrill from seeing formations that I couldn’t from my position on the field. It was incredible seeing a box materialize from a random cluster of people, or two lines merge and rotate together, when I knew all we were doing was marching from dot to dot.

When I was up on the podium, the sense of satisfaction came more from knowing that the mere motion of a hand could make that magic happen. It felt like magic, too: the drill and the music and the visuals all coming together in one show. When I watched that video of my old marching band, what struck me most was that they had poured so much time and energy into that eight-minute show, and experienced both frustration and joy I could no longer understand. Every performance has a hidden and unique meaning to the performers, and I’m saddened to no longer be part of that experience.