I was raised up on strong Christian morals, and could always justify my actions with the knowledge of what was right and wrong. I always tried my hardest at whatever I did, and strived to be the best person I could be. I was the person that anyone could look to if they were having a problem, or if they needed advice on anything. So why did I so readily give up on all that I believed in, all that I was, on that one night? That one night that changed my life forever.
It was the spring of 2007, and I was on my way up to St. Louis with one of my closest friends to visit his family for the week. I was 16 years old. We rode in the back seat of his mothers’ car, with her driving, and his grandmother napping in the passenger seat. The cool breeze of the air conditioning filled the car, and mixed with the overpowering scent of new leather was almost mesmerizing. Listening to my favorite music playing loudly through my cd player I let the powers at be seduce me into a strong sleep that would last until we arrived at our destination later on that night.
As we arrived I fell out of the car and went around to the trunk to grab my bag. My friend stretched his arms out and grabbed a blue gym bag from the bottom of the pile. He leaned in close to me and quietly said, “I got the stuff in this bag dude, alright? I’m going to put it under the bed in the room we’re staying in. We’ll get it out once everyone goes to sleep. Cool?”
I nodded as he spilled out the orders, and without giving it a second thought agreed to everything he said. “I got it man, this is going to be sweet!”
We went into his families beautiful home where I was introduced to his Aunt and Uncle, shaking their hands, somewhat nervously I’m sure, and introduced myself back to them. The homey scent of apple pie hung pleasantly in the air throughout their house, and candles were lit in every room making everything feel extra cozy. We were led to the room where we would be staying for the night, and shown where the bathroom was right across the hall. After our hosts were positive that we felt at home they quickly left us so that everyone could be off to sleep.
My friend and I got comfortable in our room, and sat down and hung out for a few hours. He continued to look at his phone to check the time. The last time he checked it, it was 12:25 A.M. “Alright man, I’m going to check to see who all’s up. Just stay in here.” I was quick to listen to him as he was the experienced one with these matters. He slowly opened the door leading out to the hallway, and quietly closed the door behind him. I sat in patience waiting for him by myself in our room. He came back about three minutes later with a mischievous smile across his face. “They’re all in bed… We’re good!”
I watched as he quickly pulled out the contents of the blue gym bag and sat them on the bed. Two shot glasses, a fifth of vodka, and four beers to top it all off. He grabbed one of the shot glasses and stretched his arm out in my direction. I looked at it sitting there in his hand, questioning it all for the first time now. I looked up at my friend, as he was staring back at me. “Here you go man, take it.” I grabbed the glass from his hands, and held it steady as he poured the crystal clear liquid into it slowly. I could smell the strong, unmistakable scent of the alcohol fill the room. We held our glasses up to each other’s, said cheers to having an awesome night, put the glasses to our lips, and tilted back, letting the burning drink flow quickly down our throats. We did this over and over.
I woke up to the pitch-black darkness of an unfamiliar room. I immediately knew that something wasn’t right. Then I realized what it was. I was vomiting… Everywhere. I quickly got up, trying to hold the disgusting bile in until I can find my way to the bathroom. But it was no use. By the time I get in the bathroom I had left a trail of stomach fluid and alcohol leading all the way back to the room I was staying in. It got on the sink, the mirror, the toilette, the carpet, the rugs, everything. I stood there, looking at myself in the mirror, not having a clue of what I needed to do. I reached for my phone in my pocket to see what time it was. 3:25 A.M. I did my best to clean up what I could with some water and toilette paper, and stumbled back to the room. I felt as if the world was spinning around me, as I slowly opened the door up. I turned on the lights, only to see my friend passed out laying sideways across the bed. He didn’t even move. I turned the lights back off, layed down, and passed out.
When I woke up later on that morning the sun was shining through the windows so brightly that I could barely hold my eyes open. I saw that my friend had already gotten up, so I forced myself up off of the ground and dragged my feet to the kitchen. The normally bad taste of morning breath mixed with the old vomit from earlier and created a taste that was so horrible it cannot be described. I tried to recall events from the night before, but everything seemed somewhat like a big cloudy dream. As I turned the corner to the kitchen I saw that I was the last one to wake up. I sat at the table, and tried to look better than I felt.
“What happened to you last night?” my friends mom asked. I rattled off some story about having too much beef jerky and root beer, which caused me to have an upset stomach and puke everywhere. I thought to myself that there was no way anyone was going to believe me. But she seemed to buy it, along with everyone else, and the subject changed as breakfast was being served. After breakfast we all parted ways from the table to go and get ready for the day ahead. When I got back to the room my friend and I were staying in, he closed the door behind us and sat down on the bed.
“Dude, last night was so much fun! We have to do it again when we get back in town.” I couldn’t help but think that he wouldn’t feel quite the same if he had experienced exactly what I had, but I agreed that it was fun, and began making plans with him for the next weekend anyways.
Things went on as they were planned for that day, and the rest of the week, until the last day of our vacation. We were staying at my friends other family members house, and he and I were downstairs talking when all of a sudden his eyes get huge. “What is it?” I ask.
“Dude, I just remembered I left all the empty bottles in the closet at the other house!”
This was a disaster. There was no hope for us now. I quickly began to freak out as I could feel the air around me getting so thick that you could cut it with a knife. My friend quickly sensed that I was getting very scared, and assured me that he would just have his cousin go over and get the bottles before his Aunt and Uncle had time to find it. It took him a long time to convince me, but eventually I calmed down, and tried to not worry too much about what was going to happen after that. Like my friend kept telling me, everything was going to be fine.
Needless to say when we got back home from the trip, everything was not fine. In fact, before we got back my parents already knew about the alcohol bottles that we left in the closet. Apparently my friends Aunt found them shortly after we left their house and told my friends mom about it too. We were so stupid to think that we could honestly get away with it all. Not only did everyone know that I lied about the vomit in the bathroom, but no one trust my friend and me anymore. It was the worst feeling I had ever felt in my life when my parents just starred at me. I could feel their disappointment. I knew better than to make those decisions.
So needless to say, I didn’t get to drink with my friend the next weekend, or any weekend after that. I put that night behind me and repented from acting like that anymore. My friend did not. He went on partying as I knew he would. We grew apart over the years, having less and less in common as we got older. We became two very different people. We now have such different beliefs in the way that we should act, that it’s hard to believe that we ever were friends. But we were. We were best friends, who hit a fork in the road, and each took a very different path. And without getting caught that night in St. Louis, I may not have taken the path that led to the place that I am very happy to be at today, the path that led me back to being me.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Not what it’s hyped up to be.
One of the worst days of my life happened on a day that for most highschoolers is hyped up to be an amazing experience and something they will remember forever, and that day happens to be senior prom. At first I wasn’t even going to go to prom, I hate dressing up, and I didn’t have a date that I was willing to pay for. Luckily for me I ended up asking an extremely attractive girl from a different school so I was actually excited to go. It’s the night before prom I have my last track meet before the state meet; I had qualified for state so I was super excited. I was about to run my last race of the meet didn’t think much of it didn’t really warm up at all. The race starts I get the baton get sixty meters into the race my leg tightens up take a stride then POP my hamstring tears. I finish the race and only make it worse; I walk off the track in immense pain. After the meet I call the girl and tell her what happened she is pissed this is only the beginning of some of the worst twenty-four hours of my life. The next morning I wake up my leg is bruised and doesn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would, so I roll out of bed and onto my leg pain shoots up through my hamstring I can barely walk to the bathroom. As the day progresses the pain only gets worse even though I’m pretty much drugged out on pain medication and icy hot. I contemplate if I even want to go to prom anymore but I figure I have already spent a lot of money for this I might as well go. When she finally showed up I was pissed off I hate dressing up, and being injured made it all the better. My date Julie was in a crabby mood for some reason when really she had nothing to be pissed about. Pictures were a disaster I hate taking pictures and so did she, and she brought one of her friends who I had never met so It made me feel all the more awkward. By the time pictures got over I was ready to get out of there, so we get in the car and start driving to prom. She isn’t talking at all making it all awkward just sitting on her phone texting away. This continues for around 20 minutes and I start to realize I have no idea where I’m going, in my rush to leave me house I forgot the directions, so I’m pretty much completely lost. After an extra 30 min of driving around and a couple phone calls I finally arrive to my senior prom late. When I walk in my friends who were supposed to save me a seat with them, didn’t save me one there table is full so I had to find a table and sit with people who I didn’t really care that much for. So we sit down I introduce my date to the kids at my table who are more acquaintances than friends, my date replies in a condescending tone, I finally realize how bad this night is going to be, then I remember the after party where I can drink my sorrow away. I go talk to my friends for awhile until dinner is ready, they give me shit for getting lost and bringing a date that’s so stuck up but we talk about how great the after party is going to be so it cheers me up a little bit. They start serving dinner and of course my table is the last table to get served, I’m starving when I see the food I become greatly disappointed and disgusted at the same time. I don’t think anyone could possibly classify it as food but I’m hungry so I get some anyway while my date sulks at the table saying she isn’t hungry. After I get done eating I feel sick and finally music starts playing and people start to get up to dance. With my leg being messed up I didn’t even want to try to dance so I start talking to my date so that maybe she can put her phone down for more than 10 seconds. As the night progresses I get in a worse mood all my friends want me to come dance, so I figure what the hell senior year might as well. I ask my date if she wants to dance she looks at me and says no, I’m in utter shock this whole time she is being a horrible date because I wasn’t able to dance so when I finally do she shuts me down. I start thinking to myself how this night could get any worse. I finally decide after sitting for about 2 hours that I’m tired of this and want to go home. So I say goodbye to all my friends who are all pissed at my date for being such a bitch. So I leave my senior prom about an hour and a half early and head home and wait for everyone to get back so I can go to the after party. When we get back to my house my parents asked why I was back so early and I told them bs story thinking maybe my date will be more fun once we go to the party. We both change our clothes and just chill in my basement for awhile watching TV, there’s nothing good on so I tell her to pick a movie. For some reason she picks Grease, I figure I won’t have to watch that much of it because I will be getting a call about the party soon. 20 min later I get the call I was waiting for, but unfortunately my friend TC told me this “Hey whats up yeah the party has to get cancelled the cops know about it and called my dad and said they would be monitoring the party and if any drinking was going on they would bust it” I don’t think I have ever been so mad and disappointed in my life. I ended about taking some medicine for my leg and going to sleep around 12 how pathetic. My senior prom which was supposed to be one of the highlights of my senior year and one of my best memories from high school turned into one of the worst days of my life.
By Aaron Gingerich
One of the worst days of my life happened on a day that for most highschoolers is hyped up to be an amazing experience and something they will remember forever, and that day happens to be senior prom. At first I wasn’t even going to go to prom, I hate dressing up, and I didn’t have a date that I was willing to pay for. Luckily for me I ended up asking an extremely attractive girl from a different school so I was actually excited to go. It’s the night before prom I have my last track meet before the state meet; I had qualified for state so I was super excited. I was about to run my last race of the meet didn’t think much of it didn’t really warm up at all. The race starts I get the baton get sixty meters into the race my leg tightens up take a stride then POP my hamstring tears. I finish the race and only make it worse; I walk off the track in immense pain. After the meet I call the girl and tell her what happened she is pissed this is only the beginning of some of the worst twenty-four hours of my life. The next morning I wake up my leg is bruised and doesn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would, so I roll out of bed and onto my leg pain shoots up through my hamstring I can barely walk to the bathroom. As the day progresses the pain only gets worse even though I’m pretty much drugged out on pain medication and icy hot. I contemplate if I even want to go to prom anymore but I figure I have already spent a lot of money for this I might as well go. When she finally showed up I was pissed off I hate dressing up, and being injured made it all the better. My date Julie was in a crabby mood for some reason when really she had nothing to be pissed about. Pictures were a disaster I hate taking pictures and so did she, and she brought one of her friends who I had never met so It made me feel all the more awkward. By the time pictures got over I was ready to get out of there, so we get in the car and start driving to prom. She isn’t talking at all making it all awkward just sitting on her phone texting away. This continues for around 20 minutes and I start to realize I have no idea where I’m going, in my rush to leave me house I forgot the directions, so I’m pretty much completely lost. After an extra 30 min of driving around and a couple phone calls I finally arrive to my senior prom late. When I walk in my friends who were supposed to save me a seat with them, didn’t save me one there table is full so I had to find a table and sit with people who I didn’t really care that much for. So we sit down I introduce my date to the kids at my table who are more acquaintances than friends, my date replies in a condescending tone, I finally realize how bad this night is going to be, then I remember the after party where I can drink my sorrow away. I go talk to my friends for awhile until dinner is ready, they give me shit for getting lost and bringing a date that’s so stuck up but we talk about how great the after party is going to be so it cheers me up a little bit. They start serving dinner and of course my table is the last table to get served, I’m starving when I see the food I become greatly disappointed and disgusted at the same time. I don’t think anyone could possibly classify it as food but I’m hungry so I get some anyway while my date sulks at the table saying she isn’t hungry. After I get done eating I feel sick and finally music starts playing and people start to get up to dance. With my leg being messed up I didn’t even want to try to dance so I start talking to my date so that maybe she can put her phone down for more than 10 seconds. As the night progresses I get in a worse mood all my friends want me to come dance, so I figure what the hell senior year might as well. I ask my date if she wants to dance she looks at me and says no, I’m in utter shock this whole time she is being a horrible date because I wasn’t able to dance so when I finally do she shuts me down. I start thinking to myself how this night could get any worse. I finally decide after sitting for about 2 hours that I’m tired of this and want to go home. So I say goodbye to all my friends who are all pissed at my date for being such a bitch. So I leave my senior prom about an hour and a half early and head home and wait for everyone to get back so I can go to the after party. When we get back to my house my parents asked why I was back so early and I told them bs story thinking maybe my date will be more fun once we go to the party. We both change our clothes and just chill in my basement for awhile watching TV, there’s nothing good on so I tell her to pick a movie. For some reason she picks Grease, I figure I won’t have to watch that much of it because I will be getting a call about the party soon. 20 min later I get the call I was waiting for, but unfortunately my friend TC told me this “Hey whats up yeah the party has to get cancelled the cops know about it and called my dad and said they would be monitoring the party and if any drinking was going on they would bust it” I don’t think I have ever been so mad and disappointed in my life. I ended about taking some medicine for my leg and going to sleep around 12 how pathetic. My senior prom which was supposed to be one of the highlights of my senior year and one of my best memories from high school turned into one of the worst days of my life.
By Aaron Gingerich
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Guts and Glory on Friday Nights
Guts and Glory on Friday Nights
Friday nights is typically the favorite night of the week for all high school kids, and quite frankly, the favorite night for most adults as well. We look forward to Friday nights because on Friday nights, the work week or school week has ended. The weekend is a little time for rest and relaxation, a time to let loose and celebrate. For me however, my Friday nights were much more than getting a couple days off from school. My Friday nights started in the locker room shortly after school and were filled with grid iron: blood, sweat, and a few tears.
During my senior year, there was a game with a cross town rival and I was always hyped up and mentally prepared for the cross town rivals they were the Warren Central Dragons. This particular school always did something to our school right before we were playing them in a game. This particular game, they took week killer and killed the grass to where it burned their school initials on the 50 yard line of our field. So I was fired up and ready to get revenge in this game. The whole team was fired up.
As a defensive lineman, nose guard was my position on my high school football team. I was lined up straight across from the ball. My job was to try and tackle who ever had the ball, but at the very least, stop the run up the middle. There is not a lot of glory when you are a lineman whether it is defensive or offensive. The glory goes to the quarterbacks, the running backs and the receivers. They are the players that always have the ball and make all of the scores. The guts however, come from the lineman. They do the hitting, the clashing, the tackling and most of the bleeding.
This night was pretty typical from the start. We huddle in to our team meeting, going over last minute play instructions, before we file out of the locker room strutting to the field. I was one of four captains that night so the four of us arms locked together to meet the officials and the captains for the Dragons at mid field. We knew the night would be good as we won the toss. We elected to defer the ball to the Dragons and we would receive the kick off at the beginning of the second half. We held them scoreless on their first possession and then we took over the ball. As the first half advanced, we held them scoreless and we were up 21 to 0 personally I thought that we should be up even more I wanted to beat them as bad as we possibly could with no mercy considering what they did to our field.
After half time, we rolled back out to the field to start our usual warm up drills so we could put this team away for the season. The third quarter we started strong and again held them scoreless, but we scored two more touchdowns to end the quarter 35 to 0. It was about midway thru the fourth quarter, we were all getting a little tired and sluggish. The sound of helmets banging together, and pads and equipment hitting together had just become a buzz. The grunting of the players, the yelling and cheering of the fans, I had just tuned out. I was completely zoned in on the football. About that time, the football was stripped from the Dragons running back and it fell to the ground about two feet from me. As focused as I was, I scooped the ball up and tucked it under my arms. I ran as fast and as hard as I could, my heart was racing and sweat was dripping down into my eyes, never looking back until I had reached the end zone. I looked around in disbelief as there were no penalty flags on the ground. I had scored my first touchdown ever.
It probably seems like not such a big deal because most teams have several players who score touchdowns all of the time. But when one considers the guts and the glory, the linemen usually have all of the guts and none of the glory. Defensive players play most all of their football careers and never actually touch a football. That night during that game, I had both guts and glory and the most memorable night of my high school football career.
By: Ben Spencere
Friday nights is typically the favorite night of the week for all high school kids, and quite frankly, the favorite night for most adults as well. We look forward to Friday nights because on Friday nights, the work week or school week has ended. The weekend is a little time for rest and relaxation, a time to let loose and celebrate. For me however, my Friday nights were much more than getting a couple days off from school. My Friday nights started in the locker room shortly after school and were filled with grid iron: blood, sweat, and a few tears.
During my senior year, there was a game with a cross town rival and I was always hyped up and mentally prepared for the cross town rivals they were the Warren Central Dragons. This particular school always did something to our school right before we were playing them in a game. This particular game, they took week killer and killed the grass to where it burned their school initials on the 50 yard line of our field. So I was fired up and ready to get revenge in this game. The whole team was fired up.
As a defensive lineman, nose guard was my position on my high school football team. I was lined up straight across from the ball. My job was to try and tackle who ever had the ball, but at the very least, stop the run up the middle. There is not a lot of glory when you are a lineman whether it is defensive or offensive. The glory goes to the quarterbacks, the running backs and the receivers. They are the players that always have the ball and make all of the scores. The guts however, come from the lineman. They do the hitting, the clashing, the tackling and most of the bleeding.
This night was pretty typical from the start. We huddle in to our team meeting, going over last minute play instructions, before we file out of the locker room strutting to the field. I was one of four captains that night so the four of us arms locked together to meet the officials and the captains for the Dragons at mid field. We knew the night would be good as we won the toss. We elected to defer the ball to the Dragons and we would receive the kick off at the beginning of the second half. We held them scoreless on their first possession and then we took over the ball. As the first half advanced, we held them scoreless and we were up 21 to 0 personally I thought that we should be up even more I wanted to beat them as bad as we possibly could with no mercy considering what they did to our field.
After half time, we rolled back out to the field to start our usual warm up drills so we could put this team away for the season. The third quarter we started strong and again held them scoreless, but we scored two more touchdowns to end the quarter 35 to 0. It was about midway thru the fourth quarter, we were all getting a little tired and sluggish. The sound of helmets banging together, and pads and equipment hitting together had just become a buzz. The grunting of the players, the yelling and cheering of the fans, I had just tuned out. I was completely zoned in on the football. About that time, the football was stripped from the Dragons running back and it fell to the ground about two feet from me. As focused as I was, I scooped the ball up and tucked it under my arms. I ran as fast and as hard as I could, my heart was racing and sweat was dripping down into my eyes, never looking back until I had reached the end zone. I looked around in disbelief as there were no penalty flags on the ground. I had scored my first touchdown ever.
It probably seems like not such a big deal because most teams have several players who score touchdowns all of the time. But when one considers the guts and the glory, the linemen usually have all of the guts and none of the glory. Defensive players play most all of their football careers and never actually touch a football. That night during that game, I had both guts and glory and the most memorable night of my high school football career.
By: Ben Spencere
Not What its hyped up to be
Not what it’s hyped up to be.
One of the worst days of my life occurred on a day which for most high school students, is hyped up to be an amazing experience and a so called rite of passage that will be remembered forever. My original plan was to not even attend the prom at all, therefore avoiding the hassle of finding a date worth the outrageous cost of the event, and even worse dressing up something I hated doing. Luckily enough for me I ended up asking a cute girl from a different school to prom; I was actually excited to go. It was the night before prom I had my last track meet before the state meet; I had qualified for state the previous night and I was super excited to run again. I was about to run my last race of the meet and didn’t think much of it and didn’t really warm up at all. That turned into one of the worst decisions of my life, and pretty much ruined the next twenty-four hours of my life. The race starts I get the baton; sixty meters into the race my leg tightens up I take a stride then my leg made a popping noise and my left leg collapsed. I finished the race and only made it worse; I walked off the track in immense pain and find out that I partially tore my hamstring. To make matters worse when I called my date to tell her the news she was disappointed and angry, a mood which would continue throughout the next twenty-four hours.
The next morning I was relieved to wake and find that my leg didn’t hurt quite as bad as I expected, or so I thought as I lay in bed. When I attempted to walk to the bathroom however, I find that the pain truly is as bad, if not worse than I had expected and I struggled to walk the few steps out of my room. As the day progresses, the pain only begins to worsen, and I am forced to take pill after pill of pain medication and basically bathe in Icy Hot as I contemplate if I am even going to prom. The sole reason for choosing to go at this point was nothing more than the incredible amount of money I had already spent preparing for this day; a day that should have been one of the best of my life. When my date finally arrived, I was completely stunned by how amazing she looked and thought to myself maybe this won’t be so bad after all. That all changed quickly when her crabby demeanor only made my own attitude worse as we posed for picture after picture, neither one of us enjoying the moment in any way. After the photo shoot finally ended, I was so immersed in leaving that I forgot the directions to the prom. The drive there became the most awkwardly silent car ride of my life.
I finally arrive to my senior prom extremely late, only to find that my friends had not saved my date and me a seat at their table, forcing me to eat with people I didn’t care for as my date texts on her phone and replies to all our table’s questions in an extremely condescending tone. I find solace for the night lying in the promise of an epic after party where I can drink my sorrow away. As the food arrives at our table, I’m disappointed and even slightly disgusted at its quality, but I am still forced to eat by myself due to my date’s refusal to eat the food. While the dancing begins, I sit at the table with my date desperately trying to talk to her about anything, since I was in too much pain to dance. After what feels like several hours of coercing minimal conversation out of her, I decide to risk the unavoidable pain and ask her to dance. I ask my date to dance but I’m shocked and humiliated when she rejects me, stubbornly remaining in her seat, silently, for another hour. I start thinking to myself how this night could get any worse. After that agonizing hour I finally decide to leave and go home with my date and wait for the after party. So I say goodbye to all my friends who are all pissed at my date for being such bitch.
When we got back to my house we both changed our clothes and just hung out in my basement for awhile watching TV, there was nothing good on so I told her to pick a movie and am immediately regretful when she chooses Grease. Twenty minutes later I get the call I was waiting for, but unfortunately my friend TC told me this “Hey, what’s up? Yeah the party has to get cancelled the cops know about it and called my dad and said they would be monitoring the party and if any drinking was going on they would bust it” I don’t think I have ever been so mad and disappointed in my life. In a fitting end to my disaster of a day, I pop a few more pain pills and fall asleep around midnight. They say that senior prom should be one of the most memorable experiences of your time in high school, and I am positive that night will surely be a memorable one but not for the reason I had hoped.
By Aaron Gingerich
One of the worst days of my life occurred on a day which for most high school students, is hyped up to be an amazing experience and a so called rite of passage that will be remembered forever. My original plan was to not even attend the prom at all, therefore avoiding the hassle of finding a date worth the outrageous cost of the event, and even worse dressing up something I hated doing. Luckily enough for me I ended up asking a cute girl from a different school to prom; I was actually excited to go. It was the night before prom I had my last track meet before the state meet; I had qualified for state the previous night and I was super excited to run again. I was about to run my last race of the meet and didn’t think much of it and didn’t really warm up at all. That turned into one of the worst decisions of my life, and pretty much ruined the next twenty-four hours of my life. The race starts I get the baton; sixty meters into the race my leg tightens up I take a stride then my leg made a popping noise and my left leg collapsed. I finished the race and only made it worse; I walked off the track in immense pain and find out that I partially tore my hamstring. To make matters worse when I called my date to tell her the news she was disappointed and angry, a mood which would continue throughout the next twenty-four hours.
The next morning I was relieved to wake and find that my leg didn’t hurt quite as bad as I expected, or so I thought as I lay in bed. When I attempted to walk to the bathroom however, I find that the pain truly is as bad, if not worse than I had expected and I struggled to walk the few steps out of my room. As the day progresses, the pain only begins to worsen, and I am forced to take pill after pill of pain medication and basically bathe in Icy Hot as I contemplate if I am even going to prom. The sole reason for choosing to go at this point was nothing more than the incredible amount of money I had already spent preparing for this day; a day that should have been one of the best of my life. When my date finally arrived, I was completely stunned by how amazing she looked and thought to myself maybe this won’t be so bad after all. That all changed quickly when her crabby demeanor only made my own attitude worse as we posed for picture after picture, neither one of us enjoying the moment in any way. After the photo shoot finally ended, I was so immersed in leaving that I forgot the directions to the prom. The drive there became the most awkwardly silent car ride of my life.
I finally arrive to my senior prom extremely late, only to find that my friends had not saved my date and me a seat at their table, forcing me to eat with people I didn’t care for as my date texts on her phone and replies to all our table’s questions in an extremely condescending tone. I find solace for the night lying in the promise of an epic after party where I can drink my sorrow away. As the food arrives at our table, I’m disappointed and even slightly disgusted at its quality, but I am still forced to eat by myself due to my date’s refusal to eat the food. While the dancing begins, I sit at the table with my date desperately trying to talk to her about anything, since I was in too much pain to dance. After what feels like several hours of coercing minimal conversation out of her, I decide to risk the unavoidable pain and ask her to dance. I ask my date to dance but I’m shocked and humiliated when she rejects me, stubbornly remaining in her seat, silently, for another hour. I start thinking to myself how this night could get any worse. After that agonizing hour I finally decide to leave and go home with my date and wait for the after party. So I say goodbye to all my friends who are all pissed at my date for being such bitch.
When we got back to my house we both changed our clothes and just hung out in my basement for awhile watching TV, there was nothing good on so I told her to pick a movie and am immediately regretful when she chooses Grease. Twenty minutes later I get the call I was waiting for, but unfortunately my friend TC told me this “Hey, what’s up? Yeah the party has to get cancelled the cops know about it and called my dad and said they would be monitoring the party and if any drinking was going on they would bust it” I don’t think I have ever been so mad and disappointed in my life. In a fitting end to my disaster of a day, I pop a few more pain pills and fall asleep around midnight. They say that senior prom should be one of the most memorable experiences of your time in high school, and I am positive that night will surely be a memorable one but not for the reason I had hoped.
By Aaron Gingerich
No title yet
It was three in the afternoon and I had just been released from school. A soon as I went out the door I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. When I checked the screen to see who was calling a number I didn’t know was scrolling across the screen. I answered the phone with a confused “Hello?” to see who was calling, and I was answered by the familiar voice of Jeff, a friend of the family.
“Hey matt I just wanted to let you know that we had to take your dad to the hospital.”
“What is it?”
“The doctors think he has appendicitis.”
“Ok, I’ll have to go back to the house first then I’ll come up there.”
“Alright, your sister already knows, and she will be looking for you.”
We ended the conversation so I turned my head to look for my sister. She had already spotted me and was on her way. We walked to my car together and I let her know that I wasn’t worried because appendicitis was a common thing. So we threw or things in the backseat of my car and headed off.
At the hospital we were in the ambulatory surgery waiting room. My sister, mom, and aunt were in the secluded area of the waiting room with me. Come to find out what I thought was a common ailment was a little more. His appendix had burst and perforated his colon. His insides were a mess and he would be in surgery for a while. Jeff was on his way while I thought about the way my dad acted for the past week.
Not exatly sure how to word the body yet so this is all I have.
Matthew Graham
“Hey matt I just wanted to let you know that we had to take your dad to the hospital.”
“What is it?”
“The doctors think he has appendicitis.”
“Ok, I’ll have to go back to the house first then I’ll come up there.”
“Alright, your sister already knows, and she will be looking for you.”
We ended the conversation so I turned my head to look for my sister. She had already spotted me and was on her way. We walked to my car together and I let her know that I wasn’t worried because appendicitis was a common thing. So we threw or things in the backseat of my car and headed off.
At the hospital we were in the ambulatory surgery waiting room. My sister, mom, and aunt were in the secluded area of the waiting room with me. Come to find out what I thought was a common ailment was a little more. His appendix had burst and perforated his colon. His insides were a mess and he would be in surgery for a while. Jeff was on his way while I thought about the way my dad acted for the past week.
Not exatly sure how to word the body yet so this is all I have.
Matthew Graham
My Ozzy.
On a Tuesday night in late August, I spent the night at my Dad’s small Jerry Seinfeld apartment in Tennessee. Like many times before, my dad shows me a rough audio recording of his band, mixed just the night before. During the listening session I found myself fighting sudden aches of hunger, so acting as any needy daughter would, I got up and looked for something to eat. As I make my way through the small, groggy, living room I found myself in a maze of music equipment. Stumbling over guitars, drums heads, and huge half stack amps, I made it to the kitchen with just a stumped toe this time. I limped the rest of the way making animal like sounds. Relief finally struck when I got to the pantry. When I swung the door open, my findings were a box of saltine crackers, a can of tomato soup, two bags of Lays Chips, some cherry Koolaid packets, and a box of Jew Jew Bee’s. I closed the pantry door. Next I stepped over to the refrigerator, and its contents were no more promising: a half a pound of hamburger meat, a can of mushrooms and a gallon of 2 percent milk. I looked through the kitchen into the living room where my dad still remained in the same position on the couch listening closely to his songs booming on the speakers. I looked closer and noticed that dad looked frail, swollen and looked as though he’d been beaten. For some reason this image made me feel like crying. This kind hearted man, never got to live his dreams, my dad, the smartest man I know, trudges through each week making enough to cover only a small percentage of what he owes to this economy. I wanted to just make everything okay for him. My dad’s only problem isn’t that he wasn’t talented, but he never properly planned for life. He tells me to take his life as a lesson. Contrary to the ever so popular belief that one should set high goals, keeps optimisms and hopes strong toward their dreams, I believe that in order for one to fulfill their dreams, that they must first work hard, and for Pete’s sake have a backup plan.
During high school you would find my dad not in school, but at home playing guitar. My grandmother tried with all her might to get him on the right track. Little did she know, my dad’s grungy rock attitude feed upon his mothers bickering as motivation to question authority further. My dad spent his high school nights partying with whoever was willing. He jumped from rock bands to garage bands, and even to metal bands. Music was his only true friend, and his only legal escape. His dependency on it had become increasingly strong, and seemingly success borne.
In October of 1986 my dad met my mom at a house party in their hometown. My mom had played bass for one of the bands playing at the party. My dad had told me she sat down beside him talking to her friends. Dad said he recalls having a lot to drink that night, but not enough to be unnervous about sitting beside beautiful, talented lass. Dad said he burped obnoxiously without meaning to, and turned hot red in the face. With shame he scooted his body the other direction and let out a faint, shaky “excuse me.” He told me that this beautiful girl, now 2 feet away turned around and looked at him with a funny facial expression and said “wow that was at least an eight”. Thus starting a conversation, and creating a Mark and Jenny world, only they could enter. How romantic.
As time went by my dad grew content with life, he had the girl of his dreams, he had a band, he was unemployed, and he had talent. He was so content that he had decided to quit school.
From this point Dad settled down with a seemingly solid dedicated band. With his girl playing bass and his brother on the drums, he had no doubt in his mind that success was just around the corner. High hopes arouse when a heavy set, British gentleman promised a record deal in Nashville at one of their bar shows. For days Dad rubbed it in parents’ face, his teachers face and even some of his friends’ face.
The big night dad Dad found himself at his closet unsure of what to wear, being that he was soon to be the biggest rockstar, what better to wear a grungy flannel t-shirt and ripped up jeans. Right?
Later that night dad drove his little 1982 Toyota truck to Nashville praying that the hunk of metal would get him there and back. He prayed that there would be no rain so his equipment wouldn’t drown. He prayed for the best, that this would be the big come through. He was beginning to see the light. He started to think about the crazy things he would demand backstage before each show. He thought about where he would live. God had a different plan for him.
When he and his band arrived at the address given to him, he got out of his truck and looked around. He saw a troubled neighborhood, one that looked as if a dark cloud always hung around it, or is that rain?
He looked for a bigger building. To his surprise he found himself looking at a rundown place that looked just like a drug dealers house, but he was sure that this was his destination because a little sign out in the yard read ”Danny’s studio”. Alright! The band started to make their way up the broken pavement, and up wobbly steps to the front door. Before they could even knock they heard a weak voice say “he’s not there”. “what?” said dad as he looked in the direction from which it came from. He saw an old lady who seemed to have almost popped out of the bushes beside them. “Yes” she said, “He’s not there”. “well, where is he?” Said dad. She paused for a second and said “he went to jail for selling crack”. “Well, that’s Promising” said dad as he high stepped it off the porch, looking around for hidden cops. He got to his truck almost crying. All the way home, it rained.
Just a couple of years later, Dad’s band became tight and each of the band members became better musicians. But news from my mom made the band come to a screeching halt with the words “I’m Pregnant”. So like any young teenage guy my dad paused for the longest time and came back with the words “it’s not mine”. My grandparents listened as my mom and dad fought in the back bedroom. Two hours later my mom ran out of the room crying and dad followed soon after.
“I can’t believe you’re still worried about our stupid band” said my mom.
Only time changed my dad. As months went by, he saw my rump in mom’s belly though hard about things as they were, he turned himself around. He got his first job at sunbeam in Portland Tennessee, and worked 12 hours shifts in order to support his soon to be family. Before you knew it he was just about excited as mom was about having a little version of him running around.
On January 23, 1991, I was born to my parents during the worse time possible for them both. We all lived with my grandparents who showed the biggest amount of support. Dad loved us, mom and I soon became his life, we were all he’d ever thought about. Yet he still had a strange desire to play music, and a positive feeling that his music career wasn’t over. He yet again quits his job.
One year later, the band reunites my parents played shows at every bar in Nashville. And years following, the band changes with replacements of drummers and singers, and 2nd guitarist. In the middle of this chaos my grandparents had pretty much adopted me since mom and dad were on the road a lot.
In, 1994 my parents had made enough money to buy them a house, and placed just a few feet away from my grandparents. Though they never stayed in it, it was still theirs and not mom and dads.
After many attempts and failure my parents never grew tired of music.
In summer of 1997 my dad’s life and crumbled under his feet when he discovers my moms disfaithfullness to the guitar player in the band. With little time my dad packs up and leaves to his parent’s house. He had lost his wife, his baby girl, and he was once again broke.
It’s disheartening how life bites the nicest people in the ass. My dad turned his life over to God, he tries to see me every weekend, he has a job at the bottom of the pyramid, and he stills lives with his parents most of the time.
Music is played on the side now, only when he gets time. He plays music with people who are old enough to be his father.
Music has always helped my daddy cope, yet it tore his life apart in the end.
Haley Jones
During high school you would find my dad not in school, but at home playing guitar. My grandmother tried with all her might to get him on the right track. Little did she know, my dad’s grungy rock attitude feed upon his mothers bickering as motivation to question authority further. My dad spent his high school nights partying with whoever was willing. He jumped from rock bands to garage bands, and even to metal bands. Music was his only true friend, and his only legal escape. His dependency on it had become increasingly strong, and seemingly success borne.
In October of 1986 my dad met my mom at a house party in their hometown. My mom had played bass for one of the bands playing at the party. My dad had told me she sat down beside him talking to her friends. Dad said he recalls having a lot to drink that night, but not enough to be unnervous about sitting beside beautiful, talented lass. Dad said he burped obnoxiously without meaning to, and turned hot red in the face. With shame he scooted his body the other direction and let out a faint, shaky “excuse me.” He told me that this beautiful girl, now 2 feet away turned around and looked at him with a funny facial expression and said “wow that was at least an eight”. Thus starting a conversation, and creating a Mark and Jenny world, only they could enter. How romantic.
As time went by my dad grew content with life, he had the girl of his dreams, he had a band, he was unemployed, and he had talent. He was so content that he had decided to quit school.
From this point Dad settled down with a seemingly solid dedicated band. With his girl playing bass and his brother on the drums, he had no doubt in his mind that success was just around the corner. High hopes arouse when a heavy set, British gentleman promised a record deal in Nashville at one of their bar shows. For days Dad rubbed it in parents’ face, his teachers face and even some of his friends’ face.
The big night dad Dad found himself at his closet unsure of what to wear, being that he was soon to be the biggest rockstar, what better to wear a grungy flannel t-shirt and ripped up jeans. Right?
Later that night dad drove his little 1982 Toyota truck to Nashville praying that the hunk of metal would get him there and back. He prayed that there would be no rain so his equipment wouldn’t drown. He prayed for the best, that this would be the big come through. He was beginning to see the light. He started to think about the crazy things he would demand backstage before each show. He thought about where he would live. God had a different plan for him.
When he and his band arrived at the address given to him, he got out of his truck and looked around. He saw a troubled neighborhood, one that looked as if a dark cloud always hung around it, or is that rain?
He looked for a bigger building. To his surprise he found himself looking at a rundown place that looked just like a drug dealers house, but he was sure that this was his destination because a little sign out in the yard read ”Danny’s studio”. Alright! The band started to make their way up the broken pavement, and up wobbly steps to the front door. Before they could even knock they heard a weak voice say “he’s not there”. “what?” said dad as he looked in the direction from which it came from. He saw an old lady who seemed to have almost popped out of the bushes beside them. “Yes” she said, “He’s not there”. “well, where is he?” Said dad. She paused for a second and said “he went to jail for selling crack”. “Well, that’s Promising” said dad as he high stepped it off the porch, looking around for hidden cops. He got to his truck almost crying. All the way home, it rained.
Just a couple of years later, Dad’s band became tight and each of the band members became better musicians. But news from my mom made the band come to a screeching halt with the words “I’m Pregnant”. So like any young teenage guy my dad paused for the longest time and came back with the words “it’s not mine”. My grandparents listened as my mom and dad fought in the back bedroom. Two hours later my mom ran out of the room crying and dad followed soon after.
“I can’t believe you’re still worried about our stupid band” said my mom.
Only time changed my dad. As months went by, he saw my rump in mom’s belly though hard about things as they were, he turned himself around. He got his first job at sunbeam in Portland Tennessee, and worked 12 hours shifts in order to support his soon to be family. Before you knew it he was just about excited as mom was about having a little version of him running around.
On January 23, 1991, I was born to my parents during the worse time possible for them both. We all lived with my grandparents who showed the biggest amount of support. Dad loved us, mom and I soon became his life, we were all he’d ever thought about. Yet he still had a strange desire to play music, and a positive feeling that his music career wasn’t over. He yet again quits his job.
One year later, the band reunites my parents played shows at every bar in Nashville. And years following, the band changes with replacements of drummers and singers, and 2nd guitarist. In the middle of this chaos my grandparents had pretty much adopted me since mom and dad were on the road a lot.
In, 1994 my parents had made enough money to buy them a house, and placed just a few feet away from my grandparents. Though they never stayed in it, it was still theirs and not mom and dads.
After many attempts and failure my parents never grew tired of music.
In summer of 1997 my dad’s life and crumbled under his feet when he discovers my moms disfaithfullness to the guitar player in the band. With little time my dad packs up and leaves to his parent’s house. He had lost his wife, his baby girl, and he was once again broke.
It’s disheartening how life bites the nicest people in the ass. My dad turned his life over to God, he tries to see me every weekend, he has a job at the bottom of the pyramid, and he stills lives with his parents most of the time.
Music is played on the side now, only when he gets time. He plays music with people who are old enough to be his father.
Music has always helped my daddy cope, yet it tore his life apart in the end.
Haley Jones
The Last Time Through The Air Lock
Some of my fondest memories from high school came from my involvement in marching band. One of my favorite memories was the final marching band competition during my junior year. This was the first year that we had ever gone to the Bands of America Grand Nationals in Indianapolis, Indiana. In the world of competitive high school marching band this is the equivalent of the Super Bowl. In November bands from all over the country, some as small as sixteen members while others numbered over three hundred, compete for a national title and bragging rights for a year. Until this last year the event had taken place at the RCA Dome. This venue was unique in that the material that made up the roof of the dome was held up by air pressure and a long standing tradition at Grand Nationals is for all competing bands to pass through the “air lock” to get to the field. Though it was necessary to do this because of how the Dome was designed, it became a rite of passage for all competitors.
The day before the last performance of my junior year started early for us. We had left school at around seven o’clock the night before and had got to the motel at around one o’clock in the morning. Taking into account that the last game of the World Series was on and the usual getting settled in to a new place, no one got to bed before two thirty, and we had to be up a five for breakfast and at the practice site by seven. The day dawned cloudy with light rain, high winds, and a forecasted daily high of thirty-three degrees without the wind chill. I had the presence of mind to bring warm clothing and to dress in layers, but my friends weren’t as well prepared, and as a result morale suffered. To say practice started off badly would be putting it mildly. There were people not paying attention, not being prepared, and just not caring what they were doing. Not four days before we had just won our fourth state title and I’ll admit we all felt pretty cocky going into this competition and the first half of practice reflected this. It got to the point where our band director, Mr. Harris, called us all off the field and told us to “get it together or we were going to withdraw from the competition get back on the busses and go home.” After that little “pep talk” we started to get our act together and practice started to turn for the better.
It should be understood that while it was mostly our state of mind and our lack of energy that contributed to the morning practice going the way it did, the adverse weather conditions did play a part in it as well. One of the most prevalent difficulties we as a band faced that day as far as the weather was concerned was the temperature. Thirty-three degrees is considered cold by most people but add to that almost constantly gusting winds with light rain mingled with sleet and it becomes ten times worse. I had on several layers of warm clothes and when the wind hit me I might as well have had a tee-shirt on, there were times it seemed like the wind was going through me. We were all thankful when we broke for lunch and got the chance to warm up, and adjust our attitudes.
After a break for lunch we found a second wind and were able to turn the practice around and end the day on a high note. We all knew that if the next day’s practice went the way it did that day we wouldn’t have a prayer of holding our own in the competition.
The next morning everyone seemed to move with a purpose and practice that morning went much better than the one that took place the previous day. Even the weather seemed to cooperate with us. The biting cold and the almost constant wind gusts had been replaced by bright sunny skies and temperatures that topped out in the upper fifties. We all took this as a sign of good things to come. During the bus ride the mood was light. At one point someone started singing their part of the show and slowly everyone started joining in with their parts. With both drum majors conducting us “sang” the entire show from the first down beat to the end of the show. To this day I do not know who it was that started it, but I’m glad they did because it allowed us all to cut up a little bit and relax our nerves because going into a competition like Grand Nationals, there is no room for nerves.
Once we arrived at the Dome we went immediately into warm-ups. While the musical and physical warm-ups were important, our mental warm up is the one that meant the most to us. I cannot fully put into words the full impact that the mental warm-up had on all of us. It is something that one has to be a part of to truly understand but at the same time, have no explanation for. The closest I can come to describing what took place is the funneling of all our emotions fear, joy, pride, and a host of others into one small tightly compacted form leaving only pure focus and determination to show on our faces, in our eyes. With that ritual completed we left the warm-up area and stepped into the air lock.
The first performance seemed to take just a second, eight minutes and fifty-two seconds compressed into an instant, one second the show started and the next I was playing the last notes of the show. When I experienced this I knew at that moment that I had held nothing back and had put myself into my performance. And looking around as we walked off the field I knew that all eighty-eight of us had done the same thing. We had taken all of our emotions that we had packed away and then released them using the performance as a vehicle to convey them to the audience. The emotions written into the music mixed with those being given off by us, the performers, creating an experience that no one will ever forget.
After the run we went into the stands to await the announcement of the semi-finalist bands. Our performance marked the end of preliminaries in which ninety-four bands participated; most of them were three to four times our size. Of these bands only thirty-two would get a place in semi-semi finals and only twelve of those thirty-two would get a spot in finals. As the announcing began we all counted down until only one slot remained. The announcer paused for dramatic effect lasting only a few seconds, but to us it felt like hours. Then we heard what we had all been hoping for, we were in semi-finals.
The warm-up process repeated itself but this time there were tears in our eyes. The upcoming performance marked not only the end of our season, but the end of our senior’s involvement with the band. Young men and women who we have developed close bonds with, had less than ten minutes left in a program that they had poured their hearts and souls into for the last four years. It was also the end of an era. We had been given the honor of being the last Bands of America Grand Nationals semi-finalist band to ever pass through the air lock and take the field at the RCA Dome.
Our semi-finals run went as well as the first, but like I said there’s only room for twelve bands in finals, and Bands of America doesn’t really like bands of less than one hundred members. On the bus ride home that night when most of the others had fallen asleep I allowed myself some time for reflection. A big theme that we always pushed for was having no regrets. And looking back on the season, each competition, every practice, and even all the way back to band camp remembering the highs and the lows, chuckling to myself at the funny moments and sniffling at the sad I had a smile on my face when I fell asleep.
Arriving back at school at four thirty in the morning after a week that started out with nearly freezing to death at some random high school and ended with memories and experiences that I will never forget, I got my duffle bag and walked out to my truck in the parking lot. After tossing my stuff in the bed and climbing into the cab, I recalled what I had been thinking about on the bus. As I pulled out of the parking lot I knew that I had no regrets.
By Adam Wilck
The day before the last performance of my junior year started early for us. We had left school at around seven o’clock the night before and had got to the motel at around one o’clock in the morning. Taking into account that the last game of the World Series was on and the usual getting settled in to a new place, no one got to bed before two thirty, and we had to be up a five for breakfast and at the practice site by seven. The day dawned cloudy with light rain, high winds, and a forecasted daily high of thirty-three degrees without the wind chill. I had the presence of mind to bring warm clothing and to dress in layers, but my friends weren’t as well prepared, and as a result morale suffered. To say practice started off badly would be putting it mildly. There were people not paying attention, not being prepared, and just not caring what they were doing. Not four days before we had just won our fourth state title and I’ll admit we all felt pretty cocky going into this competition and the first half of practice reflected this. It got to the point where our band director, Mr. Harris, called us all off the field and told us to “get it together or we were going to withdraw from the competition get back on the busses and go home.” After that little “pep talk” we started to get our act together and practice started to turn for the better.
It should be understood that while it was mostly our state of mind and our lack of energy that contributed to the morning practice going the way it did, the adverse weather conditions did play a part in it as well. One of the most prevalent difficulties we as a band faced that day as far as the weather was concerned was the temperature. Thirty-three degrees is considered cold by most people but add to that almost constantly gusting winds with light rain mingled with sleet and it becomes ten times worse. I had on several layers of warm clothes and when the wind hit me I might as well have had a tee-shirt on, there were times it seemed like the wind was going through me. We were all thankful when we broke for lunch and got the chance to warm up, and adjust our attitudes.
After a break for lunch we found a second wind and were able to turn the practice around and end the day on a high note. We all knew that if the next day’s practice went the way it did that day we wouldn’t have a prayer of holding our own in the competition.
The next morning everyone seemed to move with a purpose and practice that morning went much better than the one that took place the previous day. Even the weather seemed to cooperate with us. The biting cold and the almost constant wind gusts had been replaced by bright sunny skies and temperatures that topped out in the upper fifties. We all took this as a sign of good things to come. During the bus ride the mood was light. At one point someone started singing their part of the show and slowly everyone started joining in with their parts. With both drum majors conducting us “sang” the entire show from the first down beat to the end of the show. To this day I do not know who it was that started it, but I’m glad they did because it allowed us all to cut up a little bit and relax our nerves because going into a competition like Grand Nationals, there is no room for nerves.
Once we arrived at the Dome we went immediately into warm-ups. While the musical and physical warm-ups were important, our mental warm up is the one that meant the most to us. I cannot fully put into words the full impact that the mental warm-up had on all of us. It is something that one has to be a part of to truly understand but at the same time, have no explanation for. The closest I can come to describing what took place is the funneling of all our emotions fear, joy, pride, and a host of others into one small tightly compacted form leaving only pure focus and determination to show on our faces, in our eyes. With that ritual completed we left the warm-up area and stepped into the air lock.
The first performance seemed to take just a second, eight minutes and fifty-two seconds compressed into an instant, one second the show started and the next I was playing the last notes of the show. When I experienced this I knew at that moment that I had held nothing back and had put myself into my performance. And looking around as we walked off the field I knew that all eighty-eight of us had done the same thing. We had taken all of our emotions that we had packed away and then released them using the performance as a vehicle to convey them to the audience. The emotions written into the music mixed with those being given off by us, the performers, creating an experience that no one will ever forget.
After the run we went into the stands to await the announcement of the semi-finalist bands. Our performance marked the end of preliminaries in which ninety-four bands participated; most of them were three to four times our size. Of these bands only thirty-two would get a place in semi-semi finals and only twelve of those thirty-two would get a spot in finals. As the announcing began we all counted down until only one slot remained. The announcer paused for dramatic effect lasting only a few seconds, but to us it felt like hours. Then we heard what we had all been hoping for, we were in semi-finals.
The warm-up process repeated itself but this time there were tears in our eyes. The upcoming performance marked not only the end of our season, but the end of our senior’s involvement with the band. Young men and women who we have developed close bonds with, had less than ten minutes left in a program that they had poured their hearts and souls into for the last four years. It was also the end of an era. We had been given the honor of being the last Bands of America Grand Nationals semi-finalist band to ever pass through the air lock and take the field at the RCA Dome.
Our semi-finals run went as well as the first, but like I said there’s only room for twelve bands in finals, and Bands of America doesn’t really like bands of less than one hundred members. On the bus ride home that night when most of the others had fallen asleep I allowed myself some time for reflection. A big theme that we always pushed for was having no regrets. And looking back on the season, each competition, every practice, and even all the way back to band camp remembering the highs and the lows, chuckling to myself at the funny moments and sniffling at the sad I had a smile on my face when I fell asleep.
Arriving back at school at four thirty in the morning after a week that started out with nearly freezing to death at some random high school and ended with memories and experiences that I will never forget, I got my duffle bag and walked out to my truck in the parking lot. After tossing my stuff in the bed and climbing into the cab, I recalled what I had been thinking about on the bus. As I pulled out of the parking lot I knew that I had no regrets.
By Adam Wilck
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