Homecoming weekend

I went home this weekend for Mena's football homecoming. Well, you know, band homecoming. Somebody put something together for the band alumni. There was a reception, which was held in the choir room. There wasn't really anybody there who knew what was going on, but the band mothers had left a huge spread of party food on some tables against the wall. (Cocktail weenies, vegetables and dip, grapes, cookies, sausage balls, triangular lunchmeat sandwiches on white bread with the crusts cut off, tortilla chips and cheese dip. I had five grapes, a cucumber slice, and a baby carrot.) But Mr. Gray was there, so I hugged him and met his new wife Carol. She used to teach ESL in Chicago. About ten of us alumni showed up before the game, with our instruments, and Mr. Gray directed us in a couple of easy marches. He didn't figure it was even worth tuning first (I wish we had), and our lips were nearly shot after one play through, but it was so fun. We were to perform our march in the stands in the third quarter of the game, but I guess the rain-like mist sent Mr. Gray home, because it didn't happen. Mama and I sat in the stands with the Hatfield clan, who were watching Samuel, and waitied. Ah well. I didn't care where we played, as long as we got to do it at least once. That practice was great.

There are still relics of me and my classmates in the bandroom. Contest plaques, pictures of the all-state band members from each year, even a motivational poster I made with a relevant phrase from some year or another. The place hasn't changed much at all. It wasn't strange being back. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. I still have dreams about being in band.

The current band stayed in the bandroom during most of the game, avoiding the mist, and performed their halftime music standing on the track in front of the field: no marching. Boy, back in the day, the only time we ever packed up and went back to the bandroom was one night, after our halftime performance, when it was (literally) freezing and snowing. We marched in rain, we marched in mud. I lost a shoe in the sucking mud one time and had to limp back out onto the field when we were finished performing, to retrieve it. Mr. Gray made sure we were of tough stuff, and we might have complained but we were proud of it.

The preceding paragraph brought to you by Old Band Fogies United.

Saturday I visited with Andy and Jess and Allie. Jessica is cleaning out the study to be Layla's room, so we worked on Allie's room a little to make space. Allie agreed to watch some of Return of the Jedi with me. I'm trying to cultivate an appreciation of Ewoks, if nothing else, but she latched right onto Luke, Leia, and Han. Good girl.

We all had supper at the Chopping Block, where the waitress was confused by my request for hot water. Whatever. She also pronounced the "l" in "salmon." It's always a fun meal though, eating together. Back home we had lemon birthday cake that Jess and Allie (and Andy!) made. Allie performed various dances and songs, including "Baby Got Back," and we tormented Truman with a battery-powered toy car.

It rained all weekend, but that just made things cozier. I'm sure the poor cows didn't find it cozy, though. The mamas were bellowing for their weaned babies 24 hours a day.