The wall of cold night air felt like heaven coming off the school bus. The night was filled with the distant sounds of the parade festivities beginning and the sounds of the highway. Over the silhouettes of roofs, you could see halos of the bright holiday lights that had been painstakingly put up on storefronts and the large trees that lined the sidewalks of downtown San Luis Obispo. With this being the last year I would be marching with the Atascadero band, I was determined to take in every detail and enjoy every second of the event while still I could.
The band parents had gotten us pizza, chips, and oranges for a pre-marching dinner this year, and everyone did their best to eat what they could, knowing if they didn’t they would regret it. Students huddled in their usual friend groups laughing, talking, and even singing. Some, mostly juniors and seniors, were just enjoying the evening while others were just doing whatever they could to stave off the usual performance nerves. Thanks to a few years of participating in the SLO Christmas Parade, I had outgrown most except for the tiniest nerves which could be forgotten in a friend’s comment or random outburst of “Let it Go”.
However, the break for dinner couldn’t last forever. For most years, our marching band had been a later in the parade with entrance numbers ranging anywhere from the late 70’s to early eighties. This would usually result in about an hour or two of just standing around in the backstreets with our instruments and uniforms, but this year was different. This year we had been given the number 34, so it wasn’t long before we were slipping our uniforms back on, assembling instruments, and doing our best to tune to the cold night air.
Before we knew it, we were in our parade block. We did our best to get organized into ranks of five, with upperclassmen always in the middle or on the edges and with lowerclassmen filling according to instrument. We had always been told that this would help underclassmen by having someone to guide while marching, but the challenge was always making sure that the upperclassmen in question were capable and that underclassmen were able to snatch their attention away from playing long enough to adjust. Despite these difficulties, things usually turned out alright, and I had to remind myself of this as my nerves threatened to return. However, all of these thoughts were silenced as I heard our drill master’s voice cut through the sounds of cars running and float music with the familiar command of “Band, atten-hut!”
The marching started slow, as we were accounting for the speed of the de-loran that was right in front of us, but it soon felt natural. I had missed many band parade performances this year due to sports, so I was a little unsure as to how good my marching would be, but I was relieved as my heart and legs began to move to the beats of “Your a Mean One Mr.Grinch” and “Simple Cadance”. Multiple times while I was marching I was surprised to find my feet were perfectly on beat, like my feet remembered more about marching than my head did, a skill that I knew my sophomore self would have paid anything to have. I also found playing our peice to be joyfully natural as well, and I realize that because I had to memorize it, I was able to focus on shaping individual notes to make them sound better and more dynamic in relation to the rest of the band.
The only part that made me and many other musicians really nervous during the parade was the volume. Announcers’ booming voices and the screams of the crowd made us feel amazing, but there were many times where we couldn’t hear our own drum major, and would have to desperately listen for the familiar sound of the four tweets of her whistle of her usually call of “Hey Band” which would give us the signal for the goat step. Thankfully, our Drum Major, Alandra, knew what was going on and made sure to develop a pattern in her callouts so that even if we couldn’t hear her, we would know what would be coming next.
Despite all of this, The final product of our march and playing turned out to be a huge success, and I was not a little surprised and disappointed when we turned a corner and I realized that we were at the parade route’s end. It was bittersweet to realize that this would be the last time I would ever get to do this as a high school student, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much the event had ment to me. This feeling intensified as we drove home in the school bus, but slowly became less sad and more grateful as I looked around at the tired faces of my friends. Our physical and musical ability has come a long way since we started freshman year. These happy thoughts lingered in my head for a few moments, and then slipped away as the whole bus began to sing “All I Want for Christmas is You” as we came slowly back down the grade.
