I took these pictures around Lexington and Lake Erie... I do hope you enjoy this one. Thanks for all the AMAZINGLY kind feedback from my first one. Love, Pandie
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
Dreaming
Dreaming…is it always this way? Is it this way for other people or am I being punished by the sultans of slumber, whoever they are? I don’t know but I do know that my dreams are so vivid and real that I have a very difficult time emerging from their effect on me even after I awake.
My dream last night I did bring upon myself, I guess. I am working on a compilation of memories I have about people I have encountered in my life. Some were brief while others have remained steadfast over the years. I am including relatives, though I have few in comparison to the rest of the world and I am also “remembering” mere acquaintances and people who have remained in my thoughts. There is no real rhyme or reason to it, although I am trying to go chronologically. I’m nutty like that. I have also decided to use only initials because no one signed up for this. Some initials will be obvious while others will be more obscure, say from a nickname in order to protect the innocent…or not so innocent.
So, as I remember these people and how they affected or changed my life, I, of course, am recalling some not so great memories. Thus the dreams have been rampant of late, but last night, oh, last night’s was a doozy.
I will set the stage with fact and then move into the dream…
Back in my hometown, where I had lived with my parents before their passing, there was a young man whom I absolutely loved. He was my first crush and when I say I loved him, I mean that. As much as a little girl can “love” like that, I loved him. He was so much older than I was, around 16, and he was tall, played trumpet, and wasn’t skinny but wasn’t overweight, either. He had a great build. I remember wishing he would hug me, and he did quite often. He knew I had a crush on him and he was nice enough of a boy to be kind to my heart. I was in love with this boy from my 7th birthday on. He set the standard on what I was looking for in a guy and nobody ever really came close to the person I had conjured him being in my mind. That’s how it is when you are a little girl with your first crush…the bar is set between that boy and your Daddy…
I loved this guy even though I moved away from him when I was 10. I saw him occasionally as we would come back to our hometown to visit from time to time. Every time I saw him, he was even more handsome than I had remembered and I loved him more deeply. He merged into adulthood with great ease and his flirtation skills were honed to finesse as I met up with him in as I had turned 20. He was now in his early thirties and he was married with two children. His wife was a nurse and worked at night. He stumbled upon me at my place of employment and we hugged and were just so happy to see each other. Truth be told, I was beyond thrilled to see him and he was probably just being polite. Regardless of his real emotion in seeing me, if any, he did give me his phone number and address and told me to stop by that Friday night so we could “catch up”.
I would be lying if I didn’t admit to saying I wanted to go. I did want to go and catch up with him! The wife and kids didn’t really matter to me because I just wanted to “beeeeeee” with him…plus I love kids. Anyway, I tried to look as attractive as I possibly could because I wanted him to think I was “pretty” and I headed on over to his house, arriving exactly when he told me to.
He had instructed me not to ring the bell as the kids were asleep, which shows you how much I knew about little kids and bedtimes and 9pm at that point in my life. So, there he was, waiting at the door for me and even that small gesture made me feel special, as if he were waiting for me…never occurring to me that he just didn’t want the kids to wake up. I was as pretty as I could make myself and I had even worn heels because he would always be taller than me at his 6 foot five inches. Being 5’11”, I love wearing heels even though you might think I wouldn’t…they make me feel, oh, what’s the word? Ah, yes… “sexy”.
He invited me into his home and closed the door behind me. He placed his hands on my shoulders while looking into my eyes and said, “I just can’t believe it. You are just so grown up and gorgeous. Let me look at you…” He looked me up and down and then gave me this huge bear hug that felt so amazing I honestly didn’t want it to end. He invited me over to the couch and we sat down. He was relaxed and polite, offering me something to drink, to which I declined. He asked all the right questions about college, my career, my plans, everything. So very attentive. Eventually I asked where his wife was and he explained that she was at work, and the mood changed.
She was supposed to be there. The kids were asleep and she was supposed to be there! In a swift second, I was caught up in a flurry of mixed emotions. I was scared, nervous, excited, flattered, petrified, insulted, and found it incredibly difficult to breathe. I have this unique dead giveaway when I am upset…my voice goes up about two octaves and I can communicate on a sonar level with bats.
My voice shot up. “Oh! She isn’t here, then? Oh. Well, uh, maybe I should, um, I thought you said she would, of course, if she was called in, um, uh, well, I probably should, um, go.”
He calmed me right down. It was absolutely fine if I stayed. The kids were asleep and we had so much catching up to do! His wife wouldn’t care one bit in fact, he had told her I was coming over… And in my wealth of knowledge at barely twenty years old, I believed him and stayed.
We talked. We laughed. We reminisced. He kept moving closer to me and would touch my knee when I said something funny or heartfelt. At twenty, I didn’t say too many things that were either, but he was just so polite and in tune with my needs and emotions, I guess. As you may recall, HE had set the bar for all my other relationships. HE was the one to whom everyone else was compared. HE was the epitome of perfection to me.
I am unsure if time flew by or if it stood still as we sat there in his living room, him edging closer to me…me trying to run the gauntlet of emotions and figure out what was going on. Convincing myself his intentions were innocent and I should be ashamed for assuming the worst, even if just for a fleeting moment. He had a wife and children, for goodness sake! I was surely just trying to boost my own ego by thinking he thought otherwise than sitting with an old friend. I had just wanted him to love me back for so long…
He stood up and went to the foot of the staircase. I was thinking he heard one of the children stir, but no. He asked me to come over there, too… He wanted to show me some pictures he had taken that he thought I would find interesting. I got up and met him at the stairs. The pictures were of the house where he grew up and of his younger brother and such. His younger brother was actually the first boy I ever allowed to kiss me. He was my age and we were in elementary school together from kindergarten until I moved away in 6th grade. My goodness how the younger brother had matured into the spitting image of his older brother!
By now, he had placed his arm around me as we both looked at the pictures on the wall. He was narrating the events of his life from that old house and how his older brother had passed away a few years earlier. His hand rested firmly in the small of my back and I lost track of his every other word as I concentrated on his hand being there. Again, the maelstrom of confusion in my head, my heart, my entire body!
I could feel the blood rushing to my face. I began to shake from nervousness and panic. I knew that whatever his intentions were, mine were too confused for me to be there. I was a good girl! I had morals and values and my family would be so ashamed if they knew I was even there! I had to get out of there and now!
I whirled around and muttered something about “having to leave” and he stopped me. He took me by the arm and asked me to relax. He said that everything was okay and that if I would just come and sit back down, we would talk and that there was no reason to leave.
Ah, the power of persuasion some people have over me…
He escorted me to the sofa and we sat. He was careful not to sit as closely as he had managed to before and he offered me a sip of water. The conversation went back to growing up and how “precious” I was back then…but my, how I had grown into an incredible, young woman.
He asked me to take off my heels because he thought that might help me relax because it was obvious to him that I was nervous.
“Do you normally sit on one leg?”
“Yes, yes, I do…all the time.”
“It’s sexy the way you do it. I mean, your legs are just so long…they just keep going and going. Literally you have legs up to here”, he said, motioning to his chest.
He leaned in and tried to kiss me. I pushed him away and tried to gather up my shoes to leave. He kept stopping me, begging me to listen, to just stay and listen. He said he was sorry and to please just give him a chance. He was caught in the moment and he promised he would behave. Please, please…just stay with me, he said…
Now, at this point, many of you will think I left while others will believe I stayed.
This is where my dream from last night begins…
Unaware of the time, I headed back to my apartment. I needed to think. I wanted to be alone. I had so much to process from the absolute thrill of him wanting me to the pandemonium of confusion and angst to the regret of it all. All of a sudden I was the poster child for naïveté? What happened to that college girl who knew so much and was so sophisticated?
My dream then fast-forwards to today when “he” reads my blog-turned-into-book because I have become a published and world-renowned writer. He reads today’s entry and says to me…
“I had no idea.”
I, of course, believe him to be referring to having no idea of how that Friday night and the decisions thereafter affected me as a young woman. But, no. He was referring to him having no idea that I considered him to be “The One” that all others were compared. (I say “all others” like I was some floozy, but I wasn’t at all…in fact, I had the same boyfriend for seven years and he referred to me as “The Ice Princess”…LOL)
Anyway, he was commenting on how he had no idea I had used him as my “litmus test” and if he had only known, he would have tried harder…
Then the scene has a new person emerging from the shadows of my past and he says his peace…
“Trust me. She is easy to walk away from.”
And I woke up. The temperature in my bedroom must have been around 250 degrees because the sweat was just pouring off of me. My head was spinning and my heart was racing.
At this point, maybe it isn’t such a great idea to write this memoir of mine.
My dream last night I did bring upon myself, I guess. I am working on a compilation of memories I have about people I have encountered in my life. Some were brief while others have remained steadfast over the years. I am including relatives, though I have few in comparison to the rest of the world and I am also “remembering” mere acquaintances and people who have remained in my thoughts. There is no real rhyme or reason to it, although I am trying to go chronologically. I’m nutty like that. I have also decided to use only initials because no one signed up for this. Some initials will be obvious while others will be more obscure, say from a nickname in order to protect the innocent…or not so innocent.
So, as I remember these people and how they affected or changed my life, I, of course, am recalling some not so great memories. Thus the dreams have been rampant of late, but last night, oh, last night’s was a doozy.
I will set the stage with fact and then move into the dream…
Back in my hometown, where I had lived with my parents before their passing, there was a young man whom I absolutely loved. He was my first crush and when I say I loved him, I mean that. As much as a little girl can “love” like that, I loved him. He was so much older than I was, around 16, and he was tall, played trumpet, and wasn’t skinny but wasn’t overweight, either. He had a great build. I remember wishing he would hug me, and he did quite often. He knew I had a crush on him and he was nice enough of a boy to be kind to my heart. I was in love with this boy from my 7th birthday on. He set the standard on what I was looking for in a guy and nobody ever really came close to the person I had conjured him being in my mind. That’s how it is when you are a little girl with your first crush…the bar is set between that boy and your Daddy…
I loved this guy even though I moved away from him when I was 10. I saw him occasionally as we would come back to our hometown to visit from time to time. Every time I saw him, he was even more handsome than I had remembered and I loved him more deeply. He merged into adulthood with great ease and his flirtation skills were honed to finesse as I met up with him in as I had turned 20. He was now in his early thirties and he was married with two children. His wife was a nurse and worked at night. He stumbled upon me at my place of employment and we hugged and were just so happy to see each other. Truth be told, I was beyond thrilled to see him and he was probably just being polite. Regardless of his real emotion in seeing me, if any, he did give me his phone number and address and told me to stop by that Friday night so we could “catch up”.
I would be lying if I didn’t admit to saying I wanted to go. I did want to go and catch up with him! The wife and kids didn’t really matter to me because I just wanted to “beeeeeee” with him…plus I love kids. Anyway, I tried to look as attractive as I possibly could because I wanted him to think I was “pretty” and I headed on over to his house, arriving exactly when he told me to.
He had instructed me not to ring the bell as the kids were asleep, which shows you how much I knew about little kids and bedtimes and 9pm at that point in my life. So, there he was, waiting at the door for me and even that small gesture made me feel special, as if he were waiting for me…never occurring to me that he just didn’t want the kids to wake up. I was as pretty as I could make myself and I had even worn heels because he would always be taller than me at his 6 foot five inches. Being 5’11”, I love wearing heels even though you might think I wouldn’t…they make me feel, oh, what’s the word? Ah, yes… “sexy”.
He invited me into his home and closed the door behind me. He placed his hands on my shoulders while looking into my eyes and said, “I just can’t believe it. You are just so grown up and gorgeous. Let me look at you…” He looked me up and down and then gave me this huge bear hug that felt so amazing I honestly didn’t want it to end. He invited me over to the couch and we sat down. He was relaxed and polite, offering me something to drink, to which I declined. He asked all the right questions about college, my career, my plans, everything. So very attentive. Eventually I asked where his wife was and he explained that she was at work, and the mood changed.
She was supposed to be there. The kids were asleep and she was supposed to be there! In a swift second, I was caught up in a flurry of mixed emotions. I was scared, nervous, excited, flattered, petrified, insulted, and found it incredibly difficult to breathe. I have this unique dead giveaway when I am upset…my voice goes up about two octaves and I can communicate on a sonar level with bats.
My voice shot up. “Oh! She isn’t here, then? Oh. Well, uh, maybe I should, um, I thought you said she would, of course, if she was called in, um, uh, well, I probably should, um, go.”
He calmed me right down. It was absolutely fine if I stayed. The kids were asleep and we had so much catching up to do! His wife wouldn’t care one bit in fact, he had told her I was coming over… And in my wealth of knowledge at barely twenty years old, I believed him and stayed.
We talked. We laughed. We reminisced. He kept moving closer to me and would touch my knee when I said something funny or heartfelt. At twenty, I didn’t say too many things that were either, but he was just so polite and in tune with my needs and emotions, I guess. As you may recall, HE had set the bar for all my other relationships. HE was the one to whom everyone else was compared. HE was the epitome of perfection to me.
I am unsure if time flew by or if it stood still as we sat there in his living room, him edging closer to me…me trying to run the gauntlet of emotions and figure out what was going on. Convincing myself his intentions were innocent and I should be ashamed for assuming the worst, even if just for a fleeting moment. He had a wife and children, for goodness sake! I was surely just trying to boost my own ego by thinking he thought otherwise than sitting with an old friend. I had just wanted him to love me back for so long…
He stood up and went to the foot of the staircase. I was thinking he heard one of the children stir, but no. He asked me to come over there, too… He wanted to show me some pictures he had taken that he thought I would find interesting. I got up and met him at the stairs. The pictures were of the house where he grew up and of his younger brother and such. His younger brother was actually the first boy I ever allowed to kiss me. He was my age and we were in elementary school together from kindergarten until I moved away in 6th grade. My goodness how the younger brother had matured into the spitting image of his older brother!
By now, he had placed his arm around me as we both looked at the pictures on the wall. He was narrating the events of his life from that old house and how his older brother had passed away a few years earlier. His hand rested firmly in the small of my back and I lost track of his every other word as I concentrated on his hand being there. Again, the maelstrom of confusion in my head, my heart, my entire body!
I could feel the blood rushing to my face. I began to shake from nervousness and panic. I knew that whatever his intentions were, mine were too confused for me to be there. I was a good girl! I had morals and values and my family would be so ashamed if they knew I was even there! I had to get out of there and now!
I whirled around and muttered something about “having to leave” and he stopped me. He took me by the arm and asked me to relax. He said that everything was okay and that if I would just come and sit back down, we would talk and that there was no reason to leave.
Ah, the power of persuasion some people have over me…
He escorted me to the sofa and we sat. He was careful not to sit as closely as he had managed to before and he offered me a sip of water. The conversation went back to growing up and how “precious” I was back then…but my, how I had grown into an incredible, young woman.
He asked me to take off my heels because he thought that might help me relax because it was obvious to him that I was nervous.
“Do you normally sit on one leg?”
“Yes, yes, I do…all the time.”
“It’s sexy the way you do it. I mean, your legs are just so long…they just keep going and going. Literally you have legs up to here”, he said, motioning to his chest.
He leaned in and tried to kiss me. I pushed him away and tried to gather up my shoes to leave. He kept stopping me, begging me to listen, to just stay and listen. He said he was sorry and to please just give him a chance. He was caught in the moment and he promised he would behave. Please, please…just stay with me, he said…
Now, at this point, many of you will think I left while others will believe I stayed.
This is where my dream from last night begins…
Unaware of the time, I headed back to my apartment. I needed to think. I wanted to be alone. I had so much to process from the absolute thrill of him wanting me to the pandemonium of confusion and angst to the regret of it all. All of a sudden I was the poster child for naïveté? What happened to that college girl who knew so much and was so sophisticated?
My dream then fast-forwards to today when “he” reads my blog-turned-into-book because I have become a published and world-renowned writer. He reads today’s entry and says to me…
“I had no idea.”
I, of course, believe him to be referring to having no idea of how that Friday night and the decisions thereafter affected me as a young woman. But, no. He was referring to him having no idea that I considered him to be “The One” that all others were compared. (I say “all others” like I was some floozy, but I wasn’t at all…in fact, I had the same boyfriend for seven years and he referred to me as “The Ice Princess”…LOL)
Anyway, he was commenting on how he had no idea I had used him as my “litmus test” and if he had only known, he would have tried harder…
Then the scene has a new person emerging from the shadows of my past and he says his peace…
“Trust me. She is easy to walk away from.”
And I woke up. The temperature in my bedroom must have been around 250 degrees because the sweat was just pouring off of me. My head was spinning and my heart was racing.
At this point, maybe it isn’t such a great idea to write this memoir of mine.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
For My Daughter, I Sing...
After several requests, I have uploaded the video directly to the blog. It's above this post, if all things go well. LOL
I didn't want to lose the comment from ANP's mommy, so I am not deleting this. Just letting you know that I know it's a duplicate. hahaha Soooo incredibly Type A.
Love, Pandie
I created this for Beautiful Daughter to give to Hero as a gift. As you know, they are in love but distance divides. A country boy in the farmland of Indiana and a city girl who longs to be close to him. Oh, to be sixteen and in love for the first time. The extreme disquietude of it all. It is difficult to love someone next door, much less four hours away... Then again, maybe they are on to something. Regardless, there is beauty from pain.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Changes
Big Daddy is my hero. Always has been. Always will be.
Surgery was set for Tuesday morning with arrival time at 6, for us. We were there and one by one, they came. People from our church who wanted to pray with us, for us, and for the success of the surgery. Blake, the youth minister for our children, prayed specifically for the surgeon to have a steady hand and for the medical team to work in harmony and with great precision. That had been my prayer the night before. I had also prayed that I be more than a good nurse…I wanted to be an excellent one. I prayed for the children and I to be what Big Daddy needed/wanted us to be and that his healing would be swift.
Big Daddy has never had surgery before. Never been put under or even given gas. To say he was not happy about this whole thing is putting it mildly. If he was nervous or worried, he never told me. Him not telling me is of no surprise for he surely views such confessions as weak, and he is not. I was a tad concerned when he called me at work on Monday and said that there was really no reason for me to stay with him after they took him to be prepped. His explanation went as follows:
“You just started with this new company and have zero time saved up. You need to go on to work. Just drop me off on your way and by the time I am pretty good and awake, you will have put your time in and you can swing back by.”
Seriously. This was his plan. God love him.
Needless to say, I did not drop him off and leave. Instead, we checked in…together…and then our dear friends sat with me while we waited. Lucy and her husband, Midge, wonderful friends from church and who knows who else. It was a beautiful outpouring of love and support and I realized that these same people were there one year ago as Big Daddy waited time and again for me to come out of surgery. God has surely blessed us more than I could ever put into words.
Big Daddy made it home and is recuperating nicely. He is behaving himself and obeying the doctor’s orders. Though surprised, I am elated. The surgery did not go as we had planned and we have new things to consider as we move toward intense rehab, physical therapy, and the future in general. I am not going into details because somewhere along the line while clicking the morphine pump, Big Daddy informed me that he really doesn’t like every detail of our personal life being “blogged” about. Point taken. I can tell you a few things though…
1. God is good, ALL the time.
2. Friends are God’s way of allowing us to increase the size of our family.
3. Love conquers all.
If I could take this away and go through it all for Big Daddy, I would in a heartbeat without thought or reservation. He is the most amazing man I have ever known and to say I adore him is an incredible understatement. There is nothing he cannot do. He is beyond a “good man”. For me, there is no better husband, father, provider, or man.
Big Daddy sets the bar for heroes...and that bar is awfully high.
Surgery was set for Tuesday morning with arrival time at 6, for us. We were there and one by one, they came. People from our church who wanted to pray with us, for us, and for the success of the surgery. Blake, the youth minister for our children, prayed specifically for the surgeon to have a steady hand and for the medical team to work in harmony and with great precision. That had been my prayer the night before. I had also prayed that I be more than a good nurse…I wanted to be an excellent one. I prayed for the children and I to be what Big Daddy needed/wanted us to be and that his healing would be swift.
Big Daddy has never had surgery before. Never been put under or even given gas. To say he was not happy about this whole thing is putting it mildly. If he was nervous or worried, he never told me. Him not telling me is of no surprise for he surely views such confessions as weak, and he is not. I was a tad concerned when he called me at work on Monday and said that there was really no reason for me to stay with him after they took him to be prepped. His explanation went as follows:
“You just started with this new company and have zero time saved up. You need to go on to work. Just drop me off on your way and by the time I am pretty good and awake, you will have put your time in and you can swing back by.”
Seriously. This was his plan. God love him.
Needless to say, I did not drop him off and leave. Instead, we checked in…together…and then our dear friends sat with me while we waited. Lucy and her husband, Midge, wonderful friends from church and who knows who else. It was a beautiful outpouring of love and support and I realized that these same people were there one year ago as Big Daddy waited time and again for me to come out of surgery. God has surely blessed us more than I could ever put into words.
Big Daddy made it home and is recuperating nicely. He is behaving himself and obeying the doctor’s orders. Though surprised, I am elated. The surgery did not go as we had planned and we have new things to consider as we move toward intense rehab, physical therapy, and the future in general. I am not going into details because somewhere along the line while clicking the morphine pump, Big Daddy informed me that he really doesn’t like every detail of our personal life being “blogged” about. Point taken. I can tell you a few things though…
1. God is good, ALL the time.
2. Friends are God’s way of allowing us to increase the size of our family.
3. Love conquers all.
If I could take this away and go through it all for Big Daddy, I would in a heartbeat without thought or reservation. He is the most amazing man I have ever known and to say I adore him is an incredible understatement. There is nothing he cannot do. He is beyond a “good man”. For me, there is no better husband, father, provider, or man.
Big Daddy sets the bar for heroes...and that bar is awfully high.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Back Pain
Not so long ago, I was hit not once, but TWICE, with the second accident being the result of a 16 year old boy falling asleep behind the wheel and my subsequent whiplash, back injuries, neck, pain, blah, blah, blah…and the back end of my Suburban having to be replaced at the tune of $5000.00 of NOT my money.
Next, Beautiful Daughter does something pretty bad to HER back while performing with colorguard and is out of school for an entire week, x-rays, doctor visits, while missing daily practices, the football game, and even one competition.
Within a matter of mere hours, Big Daddy gets hurt at work and is unable to walk, sit, stand, bend, lay or breathe without being in excruciating pain and having his legs go numb.
My car accident injuries resolve.
Beautiful Daughter’s injuries resolve.
Big Daddy is still in the throes of hoop jumping in order to see a REAL doctor and get some help. (By the way, the MRI was so fascinating that the doctor brought in his colleagues to “check it out” because he had never seen anything like it. Two ruptured discs, L-4 and L-5, fluid leaked out and the discs the size of coasters as opposed to the size of quarters, like they are supposed to be.)
And then today. Ah, today. Precious Son comes BACK home after dropping his sister off at school this morning, complaining of, you guessed it, back pain. Seriously?!?!?!? So, thinking what anyone else of reasonable intelligence would think, I assume someone has cast a spell on us. Voodoo dolls? Ju-Ju? Whack? Whammy? Witchery? I don’t know. So, instead of placing blame on someone who hates me casting a spell, I thought I would just put it all out there and ask Precious Son what he thinks happened…
“Son? Can you recall anything in particular that you may have done to hurt your back? Maybe you slept funny or pulled a muscle while you were at the UK game Saturday?”
“No. I think it was the cartwheels.”
In absolute disbelief…I mutter a challenging “What?”, with strong emphasis on the “t”…
“Yeah, I think it was the cartwheels I did at church last night.”
Again, with much emphasis on that final “t”…“What?!?”
“Yeah. I did like three of them. Probably was that, dontcha think, Mom?”
While I could not get into “what I thought” AND sound like a loving, caring, sympathetic mother as I pictured in my head my six-foot-four inch son weighing in at 215 pounds doing cartwheels in the church parking lot…I opted for “Let me get you some ibuprofen, Honey”.
I guess it is just a matter of time before Titan and Trooper end up with back pain because they thought it would be a good idea to pole vault in the backyard or tightrope walk across the backs of our couches.
Seriously…cartwheels?
God love his heart…
Next, Beautiful Daughter does something pretty bad to HER back while performing with colorguard and is out of school for an entire week, x-rays, doctor visits, while missing daily practices, the football game, and even one competition.
Within a matter of mere hours, Big Daddy gets hurt at work and is unable to walk, sit, stand, bend, lay or breathe without being in excruciating pain and having his legs go numb.
My car accident injuries resolve.
Beautiful Daughter’s injuries resolve.
Big Daddy is still in the throes of hoop jumping in order to see a REAL doctor and get some help. (By the way, the MRI was so fascinating that the doctor brought in his colleagues to “check it out” because he had never seen anything like it. Two ruptured discs, L-4 and L-5, fluid leaked out and the discs the size of coasters as opposed to the size of quarters, like they are supposed to be.)
And then today. Ah, today. Precious Son comes BACK home after dropping his sister off at school this morning, complaining of, you guessed it, back pain. Seriously?!?!?!? So, thinking what anyone else of reasonable intelligence would think, I assume someone has cast a spell on us. Voodoo dolls? Ju-Ju? Whack? Whammy? Witchery? I don’t know. So, instead of placing blame on someone who hates me casting a spell, I thought I would just put it all out there and ask Precious Son what he thinks happened…
“Son? Can you recall anything in particular that you may have done to hurt your back? Maybe you slept funny or pulled a muscle while you were at the UK game Saturday?”
“No. I think it was the cartwheels.”
In absolute disbelief…I mutter a challenging “What?”, with strong emphasis on the “t”…
“Yeah, I think it was the cartwheels I did at church last night.”
Again, with much emphasis on that final “t”…“What?!?”
“Yeah. I did like three of them. Probably was that, dontcha think, Mom?”
While I could not get into “what I thought” AND sound like a loving, caring, sympathetic mother as I pictured in my head my six-foot-four inch son weighing in at 215 pounds doing cartwheels in the church parking lot…I opted for “Let me get you some ibuprofen, Honey”.
I guess it is just a matter of time before Titan and Trooper end up with back pain because they thought it would be a good idea to pole vault in the backyard or tightrope walk across the backs of our couches.
Seriously…cartwheels?
God love his heart…
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Lafayette Band - State 2010
This entry is most likely not going to come across like I want it to. How do I know? Because there are no words that will ever express the depth of my emotions as I try to convey this story. Some of you will relate exceptionally well because you were there, you are the mother of a senior, and you saw the phoenix rise from the ashes…
Before I go any further, let me just say if your attitude is “it’s just band”, stop reading. There are over 200 kids at Lafayette High School who would be hurt by those words. There are also countless parents, volunteers, alumni, and fans who would also take issue. I am one of them. It isn’t “just band”… Five months out of the year, every year, it is our life. There is blood. There is sweat. There are tears. Trust me when I say marching band and all that is associated with it requires far more fortitude and determination than you could possibly imagine… Lafayette Marching Band requires 100% commitment and a constant respect for all involved… Lafayette Band IS pride.
Practices for marching band begin in July. The kids had not even had a month of summer before they were back at school, on the blazing hot blacktop, five days a week. The friends who do not participate in marching band were at the pool or the movies or sleeping in or just hanging out. Not our kids. Every day. 7am until 5pm. It is their job, their life, their everything.
Precious Son is a senior this year and as I have mentioned before, I am having some difficulty accepting the reality that my little boy is going away to college in a matter of months. He will be l-e-a-v-i-n-g me. My heart literally aches and sinks to the bottom of my stomach when I think about it. I want everything for my children…far more than I want anything for myself.
My Son called me at work during the first week of band camp to tell me the news. He was so excited because he knew I would be ecstatic. That’s how we are. We click. We are so much alike we can finish each other’s jokes…but we don’t. Why? Because you don’t ruin somebody else’s joke! Geez. Anyway, he called me at work as soon as he received the music for this year’s show. Third movement was going to include “Carol of the Bells”, one of our absolute favorites. Immediately, I loved this year’s show already and he did, too. He went on to tell me a little bit more about it and we were just so excited as we pictured it in our minds.
Beautiful Daughter had been chosen as one of the dancers, which is a huge honor and responsibility. She talked and talked and talked about the dances every night after practice. She was so pleased with the show because she would be on the fifty yard line for the vast majority of the show. Not only on the fifty, but on the fifty AND in the front. To me that meant my baby girl was at center stage…right where she belonged in my not-so-humble opinion. *smile*
Week after week, they practiced. The sun beat down as we had a rainless summer, increasing the temperatures to record highs. Kids passed out. Chaperones ran hither and yon with countless bottles of water, ice packs, and Tylenol. Chaperones passed out, too, I’d say. Volunteers fed 200 kids every day and made sure they were well taken care of. Parents, alumni, older siblings, younger siblings, neighbors, sponsors, everyone considers this band incredibly special and the volunteerism is extraordinary. Parents leave work early so that they can come to the blacktop and watch for a few minutes before the director dismisses them. We stand. We watch. We clap and we cheer. Most importantly, we absorb the passion with which these kids are learning and trying and doing. It is not that they are tireless, for they are tired, what is unique, however, is that despite their exhaustion, they press on.
Three weeks later, we enjoyed the Parent Performance which demonstrated what the kids had learned thus far and we knew this year’s show was something special… The title of the show? Chime. Inspiration derived from Edgar Allan Poe’s “Bells” with three movements including Bells for Stokowski, Tubular Bells, and Carol of the Bells. From the first time I heard the music, I had chills. I have had chills every time since and I have heard the music around one hundred times now. That is how good these kids are…
The colorguard would be costumed as Victorian-esque bells sort of, kind of, well, no not really maybe? It’s hard to describe the costumes but know they are incredibly gorgeous, flowy, and showy. Irregular, handkerchief hems, billowy, puffy sleeves, and three colors: Gold, Silver, and Bronze…like bells, get it? Anyway, Beautiful Daughter would be wearing gold and this is of extreme importance because she liked the gold costume best and we need her to be happy. Haha The hair for the colorguard girls would be worn in a high bun, slicked up, with lots of glitter. My personal opinion is that glitter makes everything better. Their eye makeup would make Hollywood makeup artists jealous. Think “Cleopatra meets King Midas”…with a touch of blue in there, too. Despite my inability to accurately describe the costumes and/or makeup, suffice it to say that the girls are breathtakingly beautiful. Showstoppers, one and all.
Competitions began and the kids always did exceedingly well. The show was so detailed and complicated that it was not until the quarter finals performance that the entire show was in place. This is not unusual for Lafayette. They continually strive to improve the shows as they go along. The director, Mr. Smith, never wants to overload the students to the point of no return and it works like a dream every year. Plus, it’s nice to add a little pizzazz here and there. Keeps the kids interested and on task…keeps the audiences spellbound. Even those of us who are at every show, every time…we always know Mr. Smith will not stop until the show is perfect. Sometimes you don’t know what it needs until you have had a few run-throughs. Sometimes an idea just hits and you run with it. Striving for the ultimate perfection…that’s Lafayette.
At this point, I am going to say something that I hope you remember… If someone else’s show was better than ours, I would say so. I have said so before. There was one show a couple of years ago that blew my socks off. It was mesmerizing and I enjoyed it so very much. I knew that show would win. I just knew it. When it came to the State finals, that show did not win, Lafayette did. I was shocked because I just thought that show was amazing. Now, here is something else I need you to remember…I am not a professional musician nor marching band competition judge. I know what I like and what I don’t. It’s that simple. I liked the other show better and they did not win. I am reaffirming that I know nothing and I am fine with that. I just want you to know that I can be objective in all this and I am sure some of you will think I cannot or am not…but I really believe I am.
During the semi-final performance at Papa John’s Stadium in Louisville, I cried. Not because of the seamless perfection on the field or the way the kids had rallied to give their all. Nope. I was in tears because of the high wind situation. Winds had come across the stadium and blown down our bell props. Normally, maybe not such a big deal, but the wind persisted and the props continued to be problematic as they lay on the ground, tripping up the entire trombone section and even bringing one musician to her knees as she fell. I cried. Ms. B. cried. Beth and Beth and Beth cried. Ali cried. Moms cried. Dads cried. Alumni cried and grandparents cried. All their hard work literally gone with the wind. It was devastating. I have seen some things that have been hard to take but this superseded every, single one of them. There was a hush over our section, over the entire stadium, it seemed, as Lafayette Band, Pride of the Bluegrass tripped and stumbled over these props like dominoes. It was akin to a train wreck…you wanted to look away, but you couldn’t… you just wanted it to be over. The kids were marching backwards and straight into the danger zone of the bell props. One by one the trombone players called out to each other, “BELL!! WATCH OUT!!”and then they passed along the message to the sousaphones… “BE CAREFUL!! BELLS ARE DOWN!!” And the most amazing thing happened…these professionals never missed a beat. The girl who actually fell, jumped up like some ninja and was back in step in the blink of an eye. She had fallen hard, too, hard enough in fact, that she broke the slide of her trombone. But she kept going. They all kept going. They also came in first place for semi-finals beating out the best fifteen bands from the entire state of Kentucky. They made it to finals, bell nightmare and all.
When the scores were tallied and us “criers” found out that Lafayette had swept the semi-finals we cried, again…but this time in pure joy. Not only had Lafayette had a terrible and unplanned catastrophe but they rose above and conquered. It was such a happy time for those kids, for everyone, as those scores were read. Lafayette was one competition away from being named State Grand Champion for the 17th year since 1990. That means 17 out of 20 years, they have won first place. (I used a calculator)
The families went on to dinner at The Spaghetti Factory in downtown Louisville. We had an absolute blast laughing, talking, sharing, and sitting in “section 17”. No. Not lying. When we arrived, we asked for our party’s table and the hostess asked the girl to show us to “section 17”. SHUT!!! UP!!!! My group busted out a cheer and went on to the table. I did try to explain the significance of it to the people at the hostess stand, but I don’t think they cared. LOL We joined our group and enjoyed the time of fellowship and camaraderie that comes with being Lafayette.
As we were sitting there enjoying our yummy-oso meal, I received a text message from the mom of Beautiful Daughter’s boyfriend, Hero. She asked if I was at a place I could talk and of course, I thought Hero had hurt himself in the football playoffs. Oh, no! I told her to call me and she did. It wasn’t bad news at all!!! They were on their way to Louisville from Indiana to watch the finals performance!!! I could not believe it!! This was going to make Beautiful Daughter so incredibly happy!!! We talked for a while and both decided that Beautiful Daughter would burst into tears as soon as she saw Hero and his family, and that we would cry with her. As I have said before, having a long-distance relationship as teenagers says something extraordinary about these two young people. I promised to keep the surprise from Beautiful Daughter and they promised to be there before 10. Oh, this was going to be the best night EVER!!!
There were eight hours between the semi-final performance and the finals performance. We had time to kill, for sure. The band was practicing at Male High School while those of us relegated to the stands were shopping and eating downtown. We made our way back to the stadium, found our seats, and watched the smaller division bands as our division, 5A, would not begin performing until 10pm. I, of course, was texting back and forth with Hero’s mom, calculating their arrival time. The tension was mounting. All of my eggs were on one basket and that basket was called “Lafayette Band-Pride of the Bluegrass “. My son’s senior year and winning State for his third consecutive year. My darling daughter’s BIG surprise of Hero coming to see her perform for the first time and then meeting her on the field. (As you may recall, he is the starting quarterback for his football team and their season is the same as marching band, so he couldn’t come before tonight.) To me, the best show of the past four years, my son and all of the seniors we consider our own, and Beautiful Daughter dancing her heart out for Hero but this time, he would actually see her…surely this was a night to remember.
All the bands were amazing. For those who don’t know, only the top four bands from each division make it to finals. We have bands in 1A with less than fifty people. The other end of the spectrum is 5A and Lafayette takes the field with over 200 kids. The size of the band makes no difference, we have learned, even the smallest of small can make you stand up and dance while the biggest sometimes leave you unfulfilled. However, here we were, with the best bands of the entire state, every division, and all hopes and dreams pinned to Chime.
I never pray to God to please let Lafayette win. I think that’s wrong. I did pray, however, for the judges to be fair and objective and to see all the components of each show. The difficulty of music, the complexity of drill, execution, and delivery. That is what I prayed for and for our kids to simply do their absolute best. This is what they had worked so hard and so long for…fill them with peace, Lord, and give them the strength and determination to give their all. That is what I prayed.
Lafayette took the field. Our red, white, and blue flags were waving widely from the stands. I always yell for Precious Son and Beautiful Daughter by name. They love it. I love it. It works. This year, with it being Precious Son’s last State competition, I shouted “I love you, Precious Son!!!”… “I love you, Beautiful Daughter!!!” instead of my usual yell that actually hurts Big Daddy’s ears.
If I were to say that the show was flawless, I would not be exaggerating. If I were to say that the music was the best it could have been and had never sounded better, again, I would not be lying. If I were to say that several of us in the stands were just hypnotized with the majesty and pageantry and were literally moved to tears because we saw these kids leave all they had out there on the field, it would not be anything but the truth. The performance was the best ever. Every line was ruler straight and every note was dead on perfect. All the bell props stayed upright and all was well with the world. A bunch of us senior moms ran up and hugged each other, crying about how this was the last one but man, did they go out with a bang! Hero and his family had watched in awe as Lafayette dominated the field and every other band on it. Seventeen. Win seventeen…we had it.
One by one, the marching bands took the field and covered the stadium turf. They lined up side by side, competitors, all. I love this part of State competition because of all the colors and costumes on the field at once. It really is something to behold if you love color…and glitter.
The announcements began with 1A…then 2A…then 3A…then 4A. I wasn’t really nervous because some things you just know. There was no way Lafayette was not going to win first place. The show was breathtaking and perfect. It was complicated, difficult, and moving. The other shows were good, very good, even…but they did not stir my musically visual soul.
“Fourth place is awarded to………………Madison Central with a score of 88.90”
“Third place is awarded to…………………….North Hardin with a score of 90.53”
Now, at this point, I was holding Ali’s hand because she had asked me to…and well, I needed it. For some reason, I had become kind of nervous. I had been wrong before. We had won when I didn’t think we would have and then we had lost when I thought we should have won in 2007. It was very clear, very fast that I really did not know what was going to happen. My heart started racing. My knees started knocking. I was trying to think of some way to pray really fast and go ahead and ask God for Lafayette to win. I mean really, people had asked for far more selfish stuff before and I wouldn’t be asking for me at all…it’s for these kids!!! Scoring is completely subjective here. What if one of the judges hates Lafayette for some reason? What if one of the judges is going through a terrible, vicious divorce and his ex-wife is taking him for every penny he has and her favorite song is Carol of the Bells??? Oh my gosh. I felt sick. God, please…for my son…for these seniors…for them all…please…please…please…
“ Second place is awarded to……………………..Lafayette with a score of 92.36”
And there it was. Shock. Devastation. Disbelief. The injustice of it all. How was this possible? What had I done wrong? Yes, I was convinced this was my fault.
Was it because I said “I love you” instead of my usual cheer?
Was it because I was giddy about being in section 17 at the Spaghetti Factory even though I don’t believe in luck or “signs” and I may have very well misrepresented what I DO believe in, which is God?
Was it because I had not washed Big Daddy’s Chime shirt in time and he was wearing a different shirt?
Was it because I had entertained a few mean-spirited thoughts about our rival when they were rude downstairs?
Was it because I had initially refused to pray for them to win and then at the last second, I caved and did?
Was it because I did not cheer full-throttle for the rival band therefore making me a “pretender good sport”?
Whatever I had or had not done, I was sorry. So very, very, very sorry. Inconsolably sorry…for these kids.
“And State Grand Champion is awarded to…………Paul Laurence Dunbar with a score of 92.65.
By less than 3/10 of one point, it was over. Lafayette had come in second.
I squinted and watched our kids on the field. I knew some were crying. I knew all were upset. I knew the seniors would blame themselves and I knew they were devastated.
Not all, but some of the people from the winning band, laughed. They weren’t laughing because they were happy for their win…they were laughing at our loss. How do I know, because they looked right at our kids and laughed. They were side-by-side and you don’t misinterpret things like that. Too many kids throughout the band sections saw it for it not to be true. Like Big Daddy says, people are always gunning for you when you are Number 1.
Lafayette Marching Band-Pride of the Bluegrass accepted their award for being number 2 in the state of Kentucky. They clapped for the band who won first place because that is what we do…we applaud everyone, win or lose. These kids never broke ranks and they never uttered a word. They marched off the field, through the corridors and tunnels of Papa John’s Stadium and to their equipment trucks. And when they reached their area where every parent, sibling, grandparent, and friend were waiting for them, they broke down. They were in a safe place and they didn’t have to be stoic with us. It was one of the most heartbreaking times of my life…
I made my way to Beautiful Daughter and when she saw me, she threw her arms around me and just sobbed. “Mommy, I wanted this so badly for Precious Son…” and she did. We all did for every senior. Granted, taking away two state wins during the past four years is a huge accomplishment for them, but with seniors, it’s your last chance. You want to go out with that title. It isn’t just one year when you are a senior, that last state competition is the culmination of all four years. The seniors at Lafayette take responsibility for their sections, for each other, for the show, for winning.
We have been with most of these seniors since elementary school and we love them deeply. They can be found in our home any given weekend as well as throughout the week. Our house has never been the biggest or fanciest but it’s always been full and our doors have always been open. These are our seniors…these are our kids…this is our family…
I hugged Beautiful Daughter and told her over and over how proud I was of her. That I could not be more proud if they had won first place because the show was spectacular. I put my arm around her and escorted her toward Hero, who had been waiting patiently to see her. She did not see Hero at first, instead, she saw her Daddy and fell into his arms, crying so hard. Big Daddy told her he loved her and that there was no shame in anything the band had done. They were the best and everyone knew it. As they wrapped up their hug, Big Daddy and I turned Beautiful Daughter around and she saw Hero standing there. In an instant, she was in his arms, crying both happy and sad tears now and Hero just held her and let her cry.
Mr. Smith gave his speech without fluffing their feathers, he spelled out that it “just was what it was” and that he was more proud of them than he could ever say. He told them that one of the judges had given them 100 and that they should know they deserved that 100. He said the season wasn’t over as they still had Bands of America coming up in Indianapolis and that this one would be for fun. Mr. Smith said everything he should have, in my opinion, and said it well.
We all went over to the Parrish House for pizza and while the mood was far more subdued than ever before, we were glad to be there. Mr. Smith met Hero, a goal of his for some time now, and we all just enjoyed talking and reminiscing. The hours ticked by and the clock gonged 2am. Time to head home for all of us. The kids loaded the buses. Hero and his family headed back up north, and Big Daddy and I headed home.
Our kids, as in ALL of our kids, your, mine, and ours, will believe with all their hearts that they wanted this win more than us parents could ever imagine. Our kids will believe with all their might that we could not possibly understand how much it meant. And we, the parents, will treasure in our hearts that we definitely know how much it meant and how much it was wanted because until you have children of your own, you just don’t get it. You cannot fathom that your Mom and Dad wanted this for you more than you ever wanted it for yourself. That’s just part of being a teenager…and that’s okay. One day, when our children are sitting on some rock hard, freezing cold bleacher, watching their own children play football, tennis, soccer, volleyball, baseball or marching band…and leave everything they have on the field, then they will know…we knew.
Before I go any further, let me just say if your attitude is “it’s just band”, stop reading. There are over 200 kids at Lafayette High School who would be hurt by those words. There are also countless parents, volunteers, alumni, and fans who would also take issue. I am one of them. It isn’t “just band”… Five months out of the year, every year, it is our life. There is blood. There is sweat. There are tears. Trust me when I say marching band and all that is associated with it requires far more fortitude and determination than you could possibly imagine… Lafayette Marching Band requires 100% commitment and a constant respect for all involved… Lafayette Band IS pride.
Practices for marching band begin in July. The kids had not even had a month of summer before they were back at school, on the blazing hot blacktop, five days a week. The friends who do not participate in marching band were at the pool or the movies or sleeping in or just hanging out. Not our kids. Every day. 7am until 5pm. It is their job, their life, their everything.
Precious Son is a senior this year and as I have mentioned before, I am having some difficulty accepting the reality that my little boy is going away to college in a matter of months. He will be l-e-a-v-i-n-g me. My heart literally aches and sinks to the bottom of my stomach when I think about it. I want everything for my children…far more than I want anything for myself.
My Son called me at work during the first week of band camp to tell me the news. He was so excited because he knew I would be ecstatic. That’s how we are. We click. We are so much alike we can finish each other’s jokes…but we don’t. Why? Because you don’t ruin somebody else’s joke! Geez. Anyway, he called me at work as soon as he received the music for this year’s show. Third movement was going to include “Carol of the Bells”, one of our absolute favorites. Immediately, I loved this year’s show already and he did, too. He went on to tell me a little bit more about it and we were just so excited as we pictured it in our minds.
Beautiful Daughter had been chosen as one of the dancers, which is a huge honor and responsibility. She talked and talked and talked about the dances every night after practice. She was so pleased with the show because she would be on the fifty yard line for the vast majority of the show. Not only on the fifty, but on the fifty AND in the front. To me that meant my baby girl was at center stage…right where she belonged in my not-so-humble opinion. *smile*
Week after week, they practiced. The sun beat down as we had a rainless summer, increasing the temperatures to record highs. Kids passed out. Chaperones ran hither and yon with countless bottles of water, ice packs, and Tylenol. Chaperones passed out, too, I’d say. Volunteers fed 200 kids every day and made sure they were well taken care of. Parents, alumni, older siblings, younger siblings, neighbors, sponsors, everyone considers this band incredibly special and the volunteerism is extraordinary. Parents leave work early so that they can come to the blacktop and watch for a few minutes before the director dismisses them. We stand. We watch. We clap and we cheer. Most importantly, we absorb the passion with which these kids are learning and trying and doing. It is not that they are tireless, for they are tired, what is unique, however, is that despite their exhaustion, they press on.
Three weeks later, we enjoyed the Parent Performance which demonstrated what the kids had learned thus far and we knew this year’s show was something special… The title of the show? Chime. Inspiration derived from Edgar Allan Poe’s “Bells” with three movements including Bells for Stokowski, Tubular Bells, and Carol of the Bells. From the first time I heard the music, I had chills. I have had chills every time since and I have heard the music around one hundred times now. That is how good these kids are…
The colorguard would be costumed as Victorian-esque bells sort of, kind of, well, no not really maybe? It’s hard to describe the costumes but know they are incredibly gorgeous, flowy, and showy. Irregular, handkerchief hems, billowy, puffy sleeves, and three colors: Gold, Silver, and Bronze…like bells, get it? Anyway, Beautiful Daughter would be wearing gold and this is of extreme importance because she liked the gold costume best and we need her to be happy. Haha The hair for the colorguard girls would be worn in a high bun, slicked up, with lots of glitter. My personal opinion is that glitter makes everything better. Their eye makeup would make Hollywood makeup artists jealous. Think “Cleopatra meets King Midas”…with a touch of blue in there, too. Despite my inability to accurately describe the costumes and/or makeup, suffice it to say that the girls are breathtakingly beautiful. Showstoppers, one and all.
Competitions began and the kids always did exceedingly well. The show was so detailed and complicated that it was not until the quarter finals performance that the entire show was in place. This is not unusual for Lafayette. They continually strive to improve the shows as they go along. The director, Mr. Smith, never wants to overload the students to the point of no return and it works like a dream every year. Plus, it’s nice to add a little pizzazz here and there. Keeps the kids interested and on task…keeps the audiences spellbound. Even those of us who are at every show, every time…we always know Mr. Smith will not stop until the show is perfect. Sometimes you don’t know what it needs until you have had a few run-throughs. Sometimes an idea just hits and you run with it. Striving for the ultimate perfection…that’s Lafayette.
At this point, I am going to say something that I hope you remember… If someone else’s show was better than ours, I would say so. I have said so before. There was one show a couple of years ago that blew my socks off. It was mesmerizing and I enjoyed it so very much. I knew that show would win. I just knew it. When it came to the State finals, that show did not win, Lafayette did. I was shocked because I just thought that show was amazing. Now, here is something else I need you to remember…I am not a professional musician nor marching band competition judge. I know what I like and what I don’t. It’s that simple. I liked the other show better and they did not win. I am reaffirming that I know nothing and I am fine with that. I just want you to know that I can be objective in all this and I am sure some of you will think I cannot or am not…but I really believe I am.
During the semi-final performance at Papa John’s Stadium in Louisville, I cried. Not because of the seamless perfection on the field or the way the kids had rallied to give their all. Nope. I was in tears because of the high wind situation. Winds had come across the stadium and blown down our bell props. Normally, maybe not such a big deal, but the wind persisted and the props continued to be problematic as they lay on the ground, tripping up the entire trombone section and even bringing one musician to her knees as she fell. I cried. Ms. B. cried. Beth and Beth and Beth cried. Ali cried. Moms cried. Dads cried. Alumni cried and grandparents cried. All their hard work literally gone with the wind. It was devastating. I have seen some things that have been hard to take but this superseded every, single one of them. There was a hush over our section, over the entire stadium, it seemed, as Lafayette Band, Pride of the Bluegrass tripped and stumbled over these props like dominoes. It was akin to a train wreck…you wanted to look away, but you couldn’t… you just wanted it to be over. The kids were marching backwards and straight into the danger zone of the bell props. One by one the trombone players called out to each other, “BELL!! WATCH OUT!!”and then they passed along the message to the sousaphones… “BE CAREFUL!! BELLS ARE DOWN!!” And the most amazing thing happened…these professionals never missed a beat. The girl who actually fell, jumped up like some ninja and was back in step in the blink of an eye. She had fallen hard, too, hard enough in fact, that she broke the slide of her trombone. But she kept going. They all kept going. They also came in first place for semi-finals beating out the best fifteen bands from the entire state of Kentucky. They made it to finals, bell nightmare and all.
When the scores were tallied and us “criers” found out that Lafayette had swept the semi-finals we cried, again…but this time in pure joy. Not only had Lafayette had a terrible and unplanned catastrophe but they rose above and conquered. It was such a happy time for those kids, for everyone, as those scores were read. Lafayette was one competition away from being named State Grand Champion for the 17th year since 1990. That means 17 out of 20 years, they have won first place. (I used a calculator)
The families went on to dinner at The Spaghetti Factory in downtown Louisville. We had an absolute blast laughing, talking, sharing, and sitting in “section 17”. No. Not lying. When we arrived, we asked for our party’s table and the hostess asked the girl to show us to “section 17”. SHUT!!! UP!!!! My group busted out a cheer and went on to the table. I did try to explain the significance of it to the people at the hostess stand, but I don’t think they cared. LOL We joined our group and enjoyed the time of fellowship and camaraderie that comes with being Lafayette.
As we were sitting there enjoying our yummy-oso meal, I received a text message from the mom of Beautiful Daughter’s boyfriend, Hero. She asked if I was at a place I could talk and of course, I thought Hero had hurt himself in the football playoffs. Oh, no! I told her to call me and she did. It wasn’t bad news at all!!! They were on their way to Louisville from Indiana to watch the finals performance!!! I could not believe it!! This was going to make Beautiful Daughter so incredibly happy!!! We talked for a while and both decided that Beautiful Daughter would burst into tears as soon as she saw Hero and his family, and that we would cry with her. As I have said before, having a long-distance relationship as teenagers says something extraordinary about these two young people. I promised to keep the surprise from Beautiful Daughter and they promised to be there before 10. Oh, this was going to be the best night EVER!!!
There were eight hours between the semi-final performance and the finals performance. We had time to kill, for sure. The band was practicing at Male High School while those of us relegated to the stands were shopping and eating downtown. We made our way back to the stadium, found our seats, and watched the smaller division bands as our division, 5A, would not begin performing until 10pm. I, of course, was texting back and forth with Hero’s mom, calculating their arrival time. The tension was mounting. All of my eggs were on one basket and that basket was called “Lafayette Band-Pride of the Bluegrass “. My son’s senior year and winning State for his third consecutive year. My darling daughter’s BIG surprise of Hero coming to see her perform for the first time and then meeting her on the field. (As you may recall, he is the starting quarterback for his football team and their season is the same as marching band, so he couldn’t come before tonight.) To me, the best show of the past four years, my son and all of the seniors we consider our own, and Beautiful Daughter dancing her heart out for Hero but this time, he would actually see her…surely this was a night to remember.
All the bands were amazing. For those who don’t know, only the top four bands from each division make it to finals. We have bands in 1A with less than fifty people. The other end of the spectrum is 5A and Lafayette takes the field with over 200 kids. The size of the band makes no difference, we have learned, even the smallest of small can make you stand up and dance while the biggest sometimes leave you unfulfilled. However, here we were, with the best bands of the entire state, every division, and all hopes and dreams pinned to Chime.
I never pray to God to please let Lafayette win. I think that’s wrong. I did pray, however, for the judges to be fair and objective and to see all the components of each show. The difficulty of music, the complexity of drill, execution, and delivery. That is what I prayed for and for our kids to simply do their absolute best. This is what they had worked so hard and so long for…fill them with peace, Lord, and give them the strength and determination to give their all. That is what I prayed.
Lafayette took the field. Our red, white, and blue flags were waving widely from the stands. I always yell for Precious Son and Beautiful Daughter by name. They love it. I love it. It works. This year, with it being Precious Son’s last State competition, I shouted “I love you, Precious Son!!!”… “I love you, Beautiful Daughter!!!” instead of my usual yell that actually hurts Big Daddy’s ears.
If I were to say that the show was flawless, I would not be exaggerating. If I were to say that the music was the best it could have been and had never sounded better, again, I would not be lying. If I were to say that several of us in the stands were just hypnotized with the majesty and pageantry and were literally moved to tears because we saw these kids leave all they had out there on the field, it would not be anything but the truth. The performance was the best ever. Every line was ruler straight and every note was dead on perfect. All the bell props stayed upright and all was well with the world. A bunch of us senior moms ran up and hugged each other, crying about how this was the last one but man, did they go out with a bang! Hero and his family had watched in awe as Lafayette dominated the field and every other band on it. Seventeen. Win seventeen…we had it.
One by one, the marching bands took the field and covered the stadium turf. They lined up side by side, competitors, all. I love this part of State competition because of all the colors and costumes on the field at once. It really is something to behold if you love color…and glitter.
The announcements began with 1A…then 2A…then 3A…then 4A. I wasn’t really nervous because some things you just know. There was no way Lafayette was not going to win first place. The show was breathtaking and perfect. It was complicated, difficult, and moving. The other shows were good, very good, even…but they did not stir my musically visual soul.
“Fourth place is awarded to………………Madison Central with a score of 88.90”
“Third place is awarded to…………………….North Hardin with a score of 90.53”
Now, at this point, I was holding Ali’s hand because she had asked me to…and well, I needed it. For some reason, I had become kind of nervous. I had been wrong before. We had won when I didn’t think we would have and then we had lost when I thought we should have won in 2007. It was very clear, very fast that I really did not know what was going to happen. My heart started racing. My knees started knocking. I was trying to think of some way to pray really fast and go ahead and ask God for Lafayette to win. I mean really, people had asked for far more selfish stuff before and I wouldn’t be asking for me at all…it’s for these kids!!! Scoring is completely subjective here. What if one of the judges hates Lafayette for some reason? What if one of the judges is going through a terrible, vicious divorce and his ex-wife is taking him for every penny he has and her favorite song is Carol of the Bells??? Oh my gosh. I felt sick. God, please…for my son…for these seniors…for them all…please…please…please…
“ Second place is awarded to……………………..Lafayette with a score of 92.36”
And there it was. Shock. Devastation. Disbelief. The injustice of it all. How was this possible? What had I done wrong? Yes, I was convinced this was my fault.
Was it because I said “I love you” instead of my usual cheer?
Was it because I was giddy about being in section 17 at the Spaghetti Factory even though I don’t believe in luck or “signs” and I may have very well misrepresented what I DO believe in, which is God?
Was it because I had not washed Big Daddy’s Chime shirt in time and he was wearing a different shirt?
Was it because I had entertained a few mean-spirited thoughts about our rival when they were rude downstairs?
Was it because I had initially refused to pray for them to win and then at the last second, I caved and did?
Was it because I did not cheer full-throttle for the rival band therefore making me a “pretender good sport”?
Whatever I had or had not done, I was sorry. So very, very, very sorry. Inconsolably sorry…for these kids.
“And State Grand Champion is awarded to…………Paul Laurence Dunbar with a score of 92.65.
By less than 3/10 of one point, it was over. Lafayette had come in second.
I squinted and watched our kids on the field. I knew some were crying. I knew all were upset. I knew the seniors would blame themselves and I knew they were devastated.
Not all, but some of the people from the winning band, laughed. They weren’t laughing because they were happy for their win…they were laughing at our loss. How do I know, because they looked right at our kids and laughed. They were side-by-side and you don’t misinterpret things like that. Too many kids throughout the band sections saw it for it not to be true. Like Big Daddy says, people are always gunning for you when you are Number 1.
Lafayette Marching Band-Pride of the Bluegrass accepted their award for being number 2 in the state of Kentucky. They clapped for the band who won first place because that is what we do…we applaud everyone, win or lose. These kids never broke ranks and they never uttered a word. They marched off the field, through the corridors and tunnels of Papa John’s Stadium and to their equipment trucks. And when they reached their area where every parent, sibling, grandparent, and friend were waiting for them, they broke down. They were in a safe place and they didn’t have to be stoic with us. It was one of the most heartbreaking times of my life…
I made my way to Beautiful Daughter and when she saw me, she threw her arms around me and just sobbed. “Mommy, I wanted this so badly for Precious Son…” and she did. We all did for every senior. Granted, taking away two state wins during the past four years is a huge accomplishment for them, but with seniors, it’s your last chance. You want to go out with that title. It isn’t just one year when you are a senior, that last state competition is the culmination of all four years. The seniors at Lafayette take responsibility for their sections, for each other, for the show, for winning.
We have been with most of these seniors since elementary school and we love them deeply. They can be found in our home any given weekend as well as throughout the week. Our house has never been the biggest or fanciest but it’s always been full and our doors have always been open. These are our seniors…these are our kids…this is our family…
I hugged Beautiful Daughter and told her over and over how proud I was of her. That I could not be more proud if they had won first place because the show was spectacular. I put my arm around her and escorted her toward Hero, who had been waiting patiently to see her. She did not see Hero at first, instead, she saw her Daddy and fell into his arms, crying so hard. Big Daddy told her he loved her and that there was no shame in anything the band had done. They were the best and everyone knew it. As they wrapped up their hug, Big Daddy and I turned Beautiful Daughter around and she saw Hero standing there. In an instant, she was in his arms, crying both happy and sad tears now and Hero just held her and let her cry.
Mr. Smith gave his speech without fluffing their feathers, he spelled out that it “just was what it was” and that he was more proud of them than he could ever say. He told them that one of the judges had given them 100 and that they should know they deserved that 100. He said the season wasn’t over as they still had Bands of America coming up in Indianapolis and that this one would be for fun. Mr. Smith said everything he should have, in my opinion, and said it well.
We all went over to the Parrish House for pizza and while the mood was far more subdued than ever before, we were glad to be there. Mr. Smith met Hero, a goal of his for some time now, and we all just enjoyed talking and reminiscing. The hours ticked by and the clock gonged 2am. Time to head home for all of us. The kids loaded the buses. Hero and his family headed back up north, and Big Daddy and I headed home.
Our kids, as in ALL of our kids, your, mine, and ours, will believe with all their hearts that they wanted this win more than us parents could ever imagine. Our kids will believe with all their might that we could not possibly understand how much it meant. And we, the parents, will treasure in our hearts that we definitely know how much it meant and how much it was wanted because until you have children of your own, you just don’t get it. You cannot fathom that your Mom and Dad wanted this for you more than you ever wanted it for yourself. That’s just part of being a teenager…and that’s okay. One day, when our children are sitting on some rock hard, freezing cold bleacher, watching their own children play football, tennis, soccer, volleyball, baseball or marching band…and leave everything they have on the field, then they will know…we knew.
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