Murf's rash reappears

Ok..not literally. I just wanted to use an attention-grabbing headline but emotionally it reappeared last night. Why? I dared to do something festive and new...I went to our town's free Community Band and Choir holiday concert last night...and I dragged Big A along with me.


The auditorium was on the campus of my alma mater so we decided to eat at a restaurant across the street from where the concert was taking place. I hadn't been to Tower Inn since I was a college student so I was surprised to walk in and find myself transported to Italy or a Mediterranean region (I say this because I know the place is owned by Greeks so I couldn't tell from the decor what region they were actually going for). It was warm and cozy and the "world renowned" pizza reminded me of a Tombstone pizza but since I'm a fan of even the frozen variety, I was happy.


After loitering for a bit, we headed across the street to wait in the lobby...with the old people and the rest of the city's finest who long for free "cultural" events such as this:



While we were waiting for the doors to open, Big A asked me what the name of this concert was. I said that I thought it was just a generic 'holiday concert' but I saw a flyer on the wall of the lobby that had 'Praise and Adulation' written in large font with the typical backdrop of sun rays coming down through the clouds so, since I'm never one to pass up a good opportunity to tease, I turned and said "I see a sign on the wall and the concert's title is 'Praise and Adulation of Jesus Christ set to music'". If only I had captured the look on his face on the camera that I had brought. If you knew Big A, you would know his philosophy on religion/Jesus (or lack thereof) and what type of look this might have produced. I got my chuckle out of it and told him I was just joking.


Promptly at 7:10, the doors opened and every one rushed over the poor Boy Scouts handing out programs to get to what they consider the best seats. After finding seats to our liking over on the side and at the end of a row, we settled into the 1914 era width chairs (I guess people were a tad bit smaller then) and I started people watching to see how many I recognized. I remember one guy that was in the community band from high school (and thankfully the program had names listed or else it would have bugged me all night) and I saw a few parents of people I knew from back in high school but other than that, no one I knew.


Shortly after the lights dimmed and the AARP...I mean, Community Choir began and sang 5 songs, 3 of which contained the word 'Jesus' in it. The last one was quite a toe tapper (a spiritual called "Rise Up! King Jesus!")and the woman that sang the lead was amazing so again to tease Big A unmercifully, I sang part of the chorus all the way home...and posted it on his Facebook Wall today.


Where is the emotional rash, you ask? It was when the Community Band came on. There weren't curtains so I got to see the warming up events of playing the scales and I had horrible flashbacks to my band days in grades 5-10 (specifically grades 9-10 were the rash inducing part) and having to do the same thing and then getting picked out by the band teacher to do it alone so he can "finely tune" your trumpet. I can't even write about it without quivering. The music stands that they used were similar to what we had back in the day. I remember the band room in high school and how that was the first time I saw a penis because someone decided to hang a magazine from a locker in the band locker room to the centerfold shot. I remember being happy being last chair due to my uncompetitive nature and chatting with my friend who sat next to me and played the french horn (I still think 3rd parts add a 'richness' to a song that wouldn't otherwise be there). I remember lying about my braces having been tightened and were hurting so I could get out of playing that day (or days, more likely). My dislike of band came from two things, I believe: 1. not having much say in the instrument choice and not even liking the trumpet and 2. because even more than I disliked my trumpet, I disliked my high school band teacher (upon reflection, I think I had a bit of a crush on my elementary/junior high band teacher).

I did remember some of the good things like how being in band got you out of the gym credits; I like knowing how to read music (albeit maybe a bit rusty nowadays); the excitement of concert night when everyone was at the school after hours; the camaraderie during big events like concert night or marching in a parade; looking hot for the concerts in the black polyester suits/dresses where the only individuality came via footwear (I loved my shoes...they were black flat slip-ons with velvet across the top of the foot and silver embroidery on the velvet. They hurt like heck but they were cute!).

Aaah...memories.