Pure Sap

I really had no idea what I was getting into. When I picked SMU, one of the things they sent me in the mail was a brochure for their marching band (“Join The Mustang Band. We have lots of uniforms!”). I was (am) a nerd, so I called the director up, found out I needed to learn the alto sax and said I’d see him in 3 months.

That first week of orientation was the most difficult week of my life, as far as my limited memory can recall. I didn’t know about the high-step marching, wasn’t good at the high-step marching, could barely get up at 6:30AM, definitely couldn’t play the sax, didn’t understand how long the hours were, and was shy as hell. I was constantly exhausted, insanely sore, ready to die, and generally freaked out.

By the fourth day, I was hooked forever.

It’s an impossible thing to explain (as all these types of organizations are), but by the end of that week I had added 29 brothers and sisters to my life and was ready for anything. Some of it is explainable: starting college in a new town is much easier already knowing 68 people before classes start and having something else going on besides classes is a big help to get you going.

But more than that, I picked up this big dose of school-spirit/camaraderie/history from the band that was almost overwhelming. No matter your differences, every person in the band was right there with you to give everything for a good performance and to cheer your team on right to the bitter-bitter-oh-so-bitter end.

Along with this came some of the most truly, insanely weird, off-the-wall traditions you could possibly imagine. I went an entire fall semester going hoarse every Saturday, staying that way until Monday, and trying to yell even louder the next week. There were occasions when I seriously doubted if my hearing would ever come back (Similarly, there were occasions when some of my hearing never did come back.)

And yet when someone asked me at the end of the year if I was coming back for next year, the thought of leaving had never crossed my mind.

Over four years things some things changed, but the core stayed the same. On occasions I declared I wanted the hell out and was sick of everything. There were times I was so angry at people that fire may have actually shot from my eye sockets. But in the end, every time, I knew that it was where I belonged and I’d see it through.

In the Mustang Band:

I made some of the best friends of my life,

I learned to play loudly, unselfconsciously, and with every fiber of my being,

I understood the concept of real loyalty, to both a group and an institution,

I developed a love and appreciation of jazz music,

I became able to sing the alma mater at the top of my lungs, with my pony-ears up, anywhere at anytime, without caring what other people think,

And I got much more mature while at the same time being very, very immature.

Now my four years are up, so I’m leaving the band. It feels good, in a lot of ways. I’m ready to move on and I don’t regret a single moment of my time spent. But sure, I am sad. It was a huge part of my life that’s over now, you can’t help but miss it.

It ended on a high note for me, though. I was awarded the award (geez does that sound awkward) for best behind-the-scenes-guy in the band. Which was a big deal to me. I’ve never been an in-the-foreground sort of person, I leave that to people with the ability to speak normally and do not fall down at every opportunity. So having whatever small contribution I made recognized is…um…cool. See, this is why I stay in the background.

So, summary. Mustang Band is awesome and I can’t think of a better group of people to join (in a retrospective aw-its-my-last-day sort of way). It was a great time and expect equally great things in the future.

Oh, and I’m totally coming back for alumni band.