Music Was My First Love

“You’re the strangest person I ever met,” she said and I said, “You too,” and we decided we’d know each other a long time.”

When I write, I often…more often than not…write with a specific song in mind. I have found throughout my life, as many of us have, that music speaks to me when nothing or no one else can. There are times when even I don’t know how to find what’s lurking in the dark reaches of my soul. Music however, can do that. The right melody or right lyric can transform my thoughts from sadness to happiness or take me back in time to what seemed more innocent. When I heard Jason Ehleben’s song Wake while sitting at work listening to Pandora, I immediately saw myself in a world much different from the present. I felt a pleasure that only comes with the memories of childhood and the reflections of a life that once again sits on a precipice of change. With that, I connect you to this, which was written with Wake  playing in the background.

It’s been 31 years. Arrogance would tell me that in those 31 years I’ve seen it all, knowing full well “all” is still yet to come. I’ve shared in moments of pure joy and downright despair. I’ve traveled all over the country and at times (admittedly not as often as I would like) outside of the United States. I’ve been a witness or a participant in marriage, divorce, birth, jobs, job loss, and death. I’ve watched, as most of us do, the aging of my parents as I stand dismayed at the passage of time. It has been 31 years and there are times that the emotion through a song on the radio or the exact hint of the rain on the pavement on a hot summer day can take me back to the innocence unfettered by time. Looking back, music was my first love. 

Time. Dr. Seuss once asked the question.

“How did it get so late so soon? It’s night before it’s afternoon. December is here before it’s June. My goodness how the time has flewn, How did it get so late so soon?”

31 years ago this summer I attended band camp as a high school freshmen. We were a band that went away to camp and standing on hot asphalt at the age of 14, there was no possible way that I could have foreseen how my life would be transformed into a world of music, marching, and friendship. I remember holding my flute and struggling with the concept of playing while moving, memorization, and perfection as an ensemble. I can’t say I remember many details about that time in my life, but I remember the feeling. I remember the people. This past week I got a chance to revisit my hometown of Nashville...Music City. On one very special Friday night I had the opportunity to have dinner with two friends from that time in my life. In all levels of rational thought, we only knew each other for a short time, but the struggles of those days in band connected us for life. Facebook has created incredible opportunities for my generation, that enable us to keep tabs on and catch up with people from our past. My generation is the first generation to get to middle age and not have to repeat the phrase, “I wonder what happened to such and such?” Nowadays, chances are that “such and such” will at the least know someone who knows someone who will report their whereabouts on Facebook. We are in a time when we can share pictures from days long gone, jarring a memory or two once forgotten. Social media is an amazing invention allowing us to stay in touch and if you aren't careful it can be dangerous. Too much visiting of the past can impede you from living in the present. However, sometimes visiting the past is necessary to be able to move into the future. There’s nothing though that Facebook does, that makes up for the face to face meeting of old friends sitting around reminiscing about the past and sharing in the present day questions of how our lives have turned out. In that dinner we talked of adolescent antics, how the times have changed, and our own personal failures. We spoke of despair we felt of friends we’ve lost along the way and how those friends have left an indelible mark on our lives. It was truly a special moment and we didn’t hide ourselves from each other. We were raw and we were real.

There seems to be an unspoken rule about friends formed on the field of music that no matter what, we will be real. We will be honest. If you aren’t then what’s the point? Why pretend you are more than you are? Why try to say you are happy when you aren’t? It’s those people who have been with you for decades, who cried with you when you were 15, that should be able to cry with you when you are 40. It’s an amazing gift in life to have someone who remembers when you were a child and who knows you as an adult. They are the ones when life beats you down who will tell you what an amazing person you have always been. They will see your beauty as a child see’s a butterfly, because they knew you before you became the butterfly you are today.

Later that night, we went and sat on the old practice field and talked. That’s when we could truly feel the authenticity of our lives. It was if God was giving us a brief moment to connect back to a time that allowed us to be truly human. Marching band, at least the one I was in, was not unlike any other sports team where you learned the lessons of life through the field of victory and defeat and I couldn’t help but wonder, if those that weren’t lucky enough to have what we had, still connect with old friends in similar ways? Do they have the bonds of a lifetime, because I know that personally I don’t connect with friends from Algebra class. I connect with friends from band. Ironically, the song Music Was My First Love, was our closer in my 10th grade year. It's a song that would define my life.

In the end, I looked over the practice field a realized that I really couldn’t remember any specifics about that time. The details are fading with age and the laugh lines that contour my face. It’s all now an amalgam created by time, but in that amalgam made up of friendship and music, all I could feel was love. I couldn’t remember the details, but I remembered the music played by people unimpeded by time. As we begin a new season of band camps, my hope for this new generation of kids is to be in the moment. Feel the heat of the sun on your face and embrace the moments of struggle. Find your tribe and stick with them, because when you are my age, you will want someone who remembers the details of you.

Hey Freshmen Band Parents...THIS Is What Your Kid Just Signed Up For

To all the parents out there:

If I were to tell you that your kid was about to go on a journey of self exploration, that would take them through the inside of their soul and back, would you support it?

What if I told you that the values that were taught by you, would be reinforced by caring adults in a safe and controlled environment and in this environment, the values of integrity, honesty, responsibility and restraint would be augmented with hard work and discipline. Four years of music education and competition, coupled with physical fitness and conditioning would give your child the life skills desperately needed in the work force. Skills such as conflict resolution, internal motivation, creativity, and sense of team would walk with them upon graduation and would dictate their life's work as they faced the world on their own. Would you encourage it?

If you knew that your child would be held to the highest expectations by adult role models that pushed them to become more than they ever imagined, building a sense of self-worth and strength of character that would carry them through life, would you pay for the experience? What if your child was learning the skills needed to be a leader that would one day lead our planet into a better direction than it is today? You wouldn't think twice would you?

If you knew your child was getting a fitness regime equivalent to a sports team and time away from the computer, smart phone, t.v., and video games wouldn't you move Heaven and earth to make sure they participated with all your love and support? Of course you would and as a parent...so would I.

If you are lucky, your child has just joined the high school marching band and with any luck, that band program is going to prepare your child for life when other children are preparing to take a test. Our children today are inundated with a testing environment that has forced a reduction in the arts and physical education in most communities. We know that children are being exposed to more technology at earlier ages, which plays into the hands of the obesity epidemic and diminished peer to peer social skills. We live in a world where through the images of two dimensional machines, we have found ourselves desensitized to the world around us, taking its toll on a generation of children. If we look closely, we can see how fear has allowed a sense of community to erode, whether that fear is warranted or not.

What if we could, in our own little world, through our own little way, bring back just a small portion of what we had always envisioned for our children and what if this could be done by putting an instrument, drum stick, or flag pole in your child's hand?

So how does marching band help? What exactly are they about to learn? Simple. Everything you have ever taught your child will lead to a moment of clarity and maturity for them as they are held to the highest standard of excellence. They will learn the following 10 lessons:

• Personal responsibility by the simple mantra of "early is on time and on time is late."

• Concepts of how to follow in the face of leaders who may or may not always be right.

• Leadership by being a part of the team as opposed to ruling over the team.

• When everyone works hard, then everyone wins. When one person falls short of their responsibilities, then the entire team is damaged.

• Sometimes hard work leads to failure anyway, but the journey is where the joy is really felt.

• Hard work is just that...it's hard. It's not meant to be easy and it's not for everyone. As Tom Hanks once said, "If it was easy, everyone would do it." 

• Not every thought we have is meant to be shared and not every opinion is welcomed. There are people in charge and it's those people's responsibility to stay focused on the big picture. Sometimes in life you are just a piece of that picture and you will not have all the information to make an informed decision.

• There is no easy path to perfection and perfection is a game that can't be won. 

• It's o.k. to cry and ask for help.

• Friendship is one of the most single important elements of life. It's good friends that stand by our side in times of struggle and in times of joy. It's good friends that hold the mirror to our face and say, "Here! This is who you are. You are beautiful and your are worthy." Good friends will also tell us to get off our pity pot and get to work. 

I want you to think about something. As adults we know that the "real world" only gets harder the older we get. I remember thinking how hard college was with my schedule all of a sudden being 100% my responsibility. Then I joined the work force and college just seemed like a damn joy ride through the countryside. In the work force I quickly learned that it was someone else's company and I was under the auspices of their rules. I had to learn how to negotiate my ideas at the right time and inright moment. I had to learn to keep my mouth shut, because my opinion wasn't always welcomed. Then, it only got harder. Life threw curves forcing me to navigate marriage and divorce. I learned that there never seems to be enough money to get to payday and I have to make choices to spend or not to spend. When I thought that I had finally reached the point in life where I could sit back and take a deep breath and say, "Whew...that was hard. Now I can breathe." Yeah no. It didn't happen. Then came the kids and all of the struggles that come with raising your own version of yourself. Each stage in life brings different challenges and with all of those challenges, through every single one, I have always looked back on the lessons taught to me on a football field while holding a flag in my hand. 

I have learned that in those moments of facing consequences for not knowing my part, that I was preparing for a cut throat workforce that expects deadlines to be met. When I had a solo part and did not achieve that solo to perfection, I learned the lessons of determination to go and try again. To get better. To never give up. Standing in the hot sun in the middle of August, when my body was tired and I was thirsty, I learned to look around me and realize that we were all in it together and that I was not special, but part of a much bigger plan that involved a team. These are the life lessons that make us better people. Arrogance, laziness, lack of preparation, single mindedness, and complaining will ultimately lead to dead ends in life and it was in marching band, winter guard, and drum corps where I learned and tested the initial results of these lessons. In the end, it's the memories and friendships of the field that I take with me when the sadness of life takes hold and that gets me through the rough times. However, it's the hard fought lessons of youth, while standing on a football field holding a flag, that has allowed me time and time again to stand on my own with my head held high and say, "I can face another day." 

Welcome to our world. Enjoy. 

Girls and the Sport of Guard Part 3: Their Health and Weight

The elephant in the room. How are we as an activity going to address the growing obesity and weight problem among youth in America and more specifically, the documented and well researched growing sedentary behavior of teenage girls in America? Do we have a responsibility and if so, what is that responsibility?

Let me start here. I work in the non profit industry on the government side. We have the money and the non profits want the money. I often get asked how a pageantry organization can get their hands on that money and my response is always the same. Stop thinking about funding your program and think about who in your program should be funded. Most guards are made up of girls. Girls have specific issues. Girls are on the high level of funding priorities right now. So what would I do? I would go after the money tied to the obesity epidemic and it's impact on women. Why would I do this? Because, colorguard in most nationally based programs and even most locally competitive programs are physically taxing and require just as much physical strength and endurance as any other sport women participate in. In my last blog post, the second in the series about girls and the sport of guard, I mentioned that we must stop calling ourselves an activity and call ourselves a sport. Calling colorguard a sport brings up images of discipline, fitness, and teamwork. Calling it an activity allows the parents, the kids, and the school to think it's just some run of the mill after school program.

So why the obesity epidemic? Currently in America, when it comes to females, more research is being conducted on physical activity and weight, than almost any other form of research being conducted on the genders and its impact on the future health of the country. It's a huge issue right now. Here are some basic stats from the Women's Sports Foundation Meta-Analysis on girls health released in April 2015:

• Among students in the 9th-12th grades, only 17.1% report being physically active and only 30.3% are getting daily physical education in schools
• Among 12-year old children, girls were found to be less physically active than boys. Puberty increases obesity in girls more than it does boys. 
• A study examining trends in physical activity starting in 1988, demonstrates that the number of adults reporting no leisure-time physical activity increased greatly over two decades and the number is higher for woman than for men. 
• Among children and adolescents aged 2-15, almost 17% of all children are considered obese (CDC)
• 1/3 of all U.S adults are considered obese
• in 2014, there was approximately $147 billion spent on medical costs associated with obesity in the U.S. 

Think about that last number. $147 billion. Long terms studies conducted on health in America show time and time again that if a child learns healthy behaviors in diet and exercise from birth, they are more likely to grow to be healthy adults with less medical problems, less likely to smoke, and less likely to be sedentary leading to diabetes, cancer, and osteoporosis. 

What does this have to do with guard, band, or drum corps? Because, out of that original number of 17% of active high school students, how many of those kids are band and guard kids? This is how we advocate our worth! Think about it. If we talked to the kids about eating healthy and proper exercise, more than just, "Hey...you dropped the toss do push ups," then we are setting our kids up for life. LIFE! Factoring in how many steps are taken in one marching band season, frequent changes in tempo, which changes the heart rate keeping the metabolism always questioning, physical endurance exercises such as running the track, push ups. planks, jumping jacks, and whatever else we make them do, we are most likely one of the most physically active sports in the country. Core strength has become the buzz word in fitness circles all over the world. Your core is the essence behind your posture and building those core muscles has health implication well into middle age. 

What does this have to do with girls? Girls have a higher rate of being overweight once they hit puberty than the boys do. Girls have body image issues that are tied to societal expectations of being thin. Often times when working with girls, you face one of two issues in regards to their bodies. There is the, "I'm so fat." When if fact they are not fat or you get those that are overweight, but fail to see a life of sedentary behaviors and diet as the cause of that. Both work against a guard program. 

So what do we do about it? First we have to recognize that in an activity of teenage girls, that body image is a true issue and it's not a game. We have to next recognize that other sports may or may not monitor weight, but there is an expectation that they come into the program with an understanding that physical fitness will be the cornerstone to the program. Early morning conditioning is often a requirement, as well as control of diet. Soda's, fast food, and sugar are discussed in pre-season meetings and dietitians are often contracted with. We are an activity where the look of the performer is a factor whether we admit to it or not. Many of the girls in the activity join colorguard without an awareness of the physical nature of it. Many come into it over weight and that has inhibited their participation in traditional activities and sports intended for girls, such as cheerleading and volleyball. Many girls enter into their freshmen year of color guard having been sedentary much of their lives. They simply don't have an awareness of what they are getting into. I watch it every year. That look of total surprise when they have to run a mile around the track....just to warm up. It takes four laps to cover a mile around a high school track and many kids can't make it around in under 15 minutes. In traditional sports, running for warm up is just simply an expectation. A conversation and exercises about the core is a necessity and will go a long way in saving you time in the end bitching and complaining about "standing up straight."

Every year at band camp I watch the girls and how they dress for the heat and what they drink. One girl a couple of years ago showed up to band camp with a Mountain Dew in her hands. My response? "Do you understand how your body reacts to the amount of sugar in those drinks and the heat?" She didn't know. I told her to go home and research it and come back and report to the rest of the guard. I finished with, "I don't ever want to see another soda on this field again." These are the things they don't know. Before we teach the first count of a show, we must talk to the kids about their health. We have to go beyond drinking water and wearing sunscreen and talk to them about their bodies. 

What about the overweight girls? How do you discuss what is probably the most sensitive topic for girls today? Start with an expectation upon entering the program that a healthy lifestyle will be a cornerstone to the program. Engage the girls in conversations about what they ate for lunch. Talk about water and how water doesn't just keep your body from dehydrating, but can help boost the metabolism. Create a Facebook page for the guard and on that Facebook page encourage the performers to post how they conditioned their body in their off time. Encourage friendly contests between them regarding to fitness. Talk with them individually if you need to. Ask them how they eat at home and what they eat when they snack. Teach them that almonds are great for a snack, but chips are not. Tell them you are concerned that they will not be able to manage the intense physical demands that the show will bring if they don't take better care of themselves. Show concern and compassion. Tell them when you see them lose weight or gain time in the morning run. Can't do more than 10 push ups at the beginning of the season, but in the end they can do 30? Tell them you are proud of them! Keep the understanding in the back of your mind that if the parents are overweight, chances are they aren't being encouraged at home to be physically healthy. There's a possibility that you will be working against a familial lifestyle. This goes into the next part.

Don't ignore the parents. If parents think that little Suzy is joining a cute little activity, then they will treat it that way. Parent meetings are crucial in laying the foundation of the program from a health perspective. Work with the parents, not against them. Parents only want the best for their children and if you approach it that way, then you will get most of the parents on board. Here are some other ideas:

• Create a county wide initiative with other guards. Friendly competition so to speak. Something like, "How many miles did your guard run this season?" 
• Work collectively as a community pageantry environment and share dollars in bringing in a personal trainer or dietitian before the band season starts and get as many kids in a gym as possible to listen to them speak.
• Get the kids to keep fitness journals. Sports teams do it all the time.
• Create a push up chart or plank chart. How long can the guard collectively plank? What's the average push up before the first person falls? Increase that number as the season goes on. 
• Make every kid in the program buy a pedometer and wear it. It's a physical reminder of the importance of motion.

There's a million ideas that don't require money or a lot of time. It is incumbent upon us as an activity to talk more about health. This physically demanding activity of ours, becomes more rigorous as the years go on and can start resulting in more injuries such as broken wrists, dislocated knees, and concussions as we explore more tricks and blind tosses. We are more than what we spin and we owe it to the kids to create a health based dialog. Finally, what about us? Shouldn't we as instructors and coaches model positive health? We have to ask ourselves, "What do the kids see when they see me and am I an adult that's a do what I say, not what I do?" We don't have to look like the model of health, but we should at the very least strive to better ourselves.  

Girls and the Sport of Guard...Part 2

I'm going to tell you a story. There is a girl in your guard. She's your guard captain. She's strong. Smart. Ambitious. You don't have to worry about her. She has a great, caring family. Her parents are supportive and have done everything in their power to make sure she succeeds in life. Somewhere in her upbringing though, she lost her sense of self. Somewhere along the lines she started to believe that the images she see's in the media of beauty and weight, is real. What if what she saw around her gave her a sense of "less than," because she can't find her ambitions in the images of reality t.v. and the movies. You find out that she has been keeping a secret. That secret is that she dating a boy that isn't nice.  He doesn't support her success in an activity few understand. He hates it when she's at practice. He texts her constantly. He wants to know if there are any other boys she's talking to. He never congratulates her when she wins. He never see's her perform. He convinces her to quit. She believes that he is the best thing she can get, so she does. She tells you that it's because she has too much school work.

What would you do? Would you recognize that she's in an abusive relationship? Do you think her parents know? Does it even matter to you as her coach?

The story you just read is a true story and it's my story, except it didn't happen in high school, but as an adult and I didn't quit, but almost did. This story plays out with teenage girls and women every day and most people have no idea, because we don't talk about it and we keep secrets. It's uncomfortable. It's scary. It's about the power partners keep over us and the self-esteem that society seeks to destroy through the unnatural expectations it has on women regarding beauty and sex. If you read many of my posts, you will see me in them. I veil much of it, but if you read closely, you can see the story of me reveal itself. In my career of color guard, I have endured a hell you wouldn't believe. Strength is my game and strength is a misconception. We place strength on the top of the list of things we want our girls to learn from guard. I know I do. However, sometimes we forget to make sure that strength goes beyond throwing a really great toss. Through a lot of soul searching, I have found that I have had people looking up to me while  I wasn't even look up to myself...and no one knew. Well a few did, but they only started to realize after the game of secrets I was playing started to unravel in front of them, because good friends will always find their way around the secrets. When you don't look up to yourself, you open a door to madness.

When a person is in a relationship that centers around power and control, the control reaches way beyond the home. Your photos on Facebook are monitored. Time frames of coming and going must be kept. Being on the computer late at night becomes a crime. Your whereabouts become about the control of your actions. Lies are told to cover tracks of things that aren't even wrong to do. These were my guard weekends for years. Sunday nights were awful. Awful! I have had my keys taken from me to keep me from leaving for a weekend and had the mileage on my car monitored. I kept it all a secret. Color guard weekends for me were an escape to people who care, but the people who cared were kept in the dark. Why is that? Because I'm supposed to be strong. I've had men who were jealous of my success, so much so, they became verbally abusive just to manage me. Kept it all inside, because coaching young people to be strong does not lend itself well when you are the internal lie of strength.

So what does this have to do with coaching girls? Because, our girls face battles many people fail to recognize and we owe it to them to make sure we do recognize it. Because, a national dialog about who is teaching in our activity and who is performing in it needs to finally begin. The dialog on how we coach must start now. For the record, I know women in the activity (I also know men, but this post if about the girls) who have been hit by a partner. I know single moms who get no child support and who judge on the weekends just to make ends meet. Many women in the activity are techs. Techs get the brunt of the "bad cop" persona.  With that comes the word "Bitch."  In many programs, the techs get little to no pay, while the designers get eat up the bulk of the instructional budget. There are girls performing who are told by opening equipment solo's automatically going to boys, that they aren't good enough. Watch the shows next year. Tell me if you don't see a large number of solo equipment moments going to the males. Many of our girls don't come to us with high self-esteem. In fact, we know that once a girl hits puberty, her self-esteem can drop by almost 50%, to make way for the change in perception of the body. This is why costuming correctly is crucial. This is why we must recognize that building their self-esteem must be an essential aspect of our coaching curriculum. You can be tough, without tearing them down.

We know that when women enter the workforce in male dominated fields that they speak less in meetings and get shut down more than their male counterparts. We also know that women when they do speak up, often times follow with an apology afterwards. This is researched and well documented. Women are a little over half of the U.S. population and earn 60% of all masters degrees awarded. However, they hold just 17% of Fortune 500 Board seats and although women control 80% of domestic spending, they are only 3% of creative directors in advertising. What girls see, is how many of them will be. We can break this, if at the least for our own performers if we are diligent in how we coach them.

Pat Summit of the Tennessee women's basketball program is probably one of the best coaches of all time. 100% of her girls graduated college. 100%! She saw coaching as a means to help girls realize their full potential of self-worth. She's a hero of mine. It's Pat Summit that lived by the Teddy Roosevelt quote of, "They don't care what you know, until they know that you care." She has spoken publicly about the uphill battle women face in life. In her coaching, she positioned her players to manage life head on.


In the past 5 years there have been three crucial moments that put me in a position to see my worth. The first was a class for adults being offered at my sons karate studio. It was cheap and sounded fun. It was called Krav Maga. I had never heard of it. Basically, the premise behind krav maga is to cripple your opponent so you can get away. One night we were learning how to get out of a choke hold from the back. Without thinking I reacted...strongly. One of the things they teach you is to use your voice to call for help, but to give you breath to continue. So I was choked  (by a black belt mind you) and without thinking I turned around and flattened him and put my foot on his chest and screamed, "Get the f*** off of me!" It was a moment that was visceral and raw. It was a lifetime of feeling less than coming out and everyone cheered. The second and third were two movies that I saw almost back to back. They were the Hunger Games and Frozen. I watched Frozen first and was captivated by the message. As much fun that we make of kids and "that song," have you ever listened to the words and thought about the message to girls?

A young girl is told to hide her magic. She keeps it all inside. She hides her true nature of internal power. Finally, the magic breaks free and she feels that she can once and for all explore who she really is. Sound like the teen girls you work with?

"A kingdom of isolation and it looks like I'm the queen." (She's hiding her true self)

"Be the good girl you always have to be." (The old societal message)

"The fears that once controlled me can't get to me at all." (You are more than what frighten's you)

"It's time to see what I can do, to test the limits and break through. No right or wrong no rules for me. I'm free." (Empowerment!)

"You'll never see me cry." (Standing up for yourself)

"Let the storm rage on." (There will always be a storm. How you see yourself in that storm is crucial)

There is a reason why the movie was so powerful and it had nothing to do with Olaf. It empowered a generation of girls and I know women who use the song to get them through hard times and to inspire them. I did. I do. When I finally got to see the Hunger Games I started to see that the tides were shifting in America. Women were starting to once again, be shown as figures that could stand up for themselves and their families. As women we've always done that. Hollywood however, usually paints a much different picture...Sexy, Bitchy, Catty, and Needy. Most people can't be what they can't see, so they play out what they do and we see that in schools all over the country. We have a responsibility to show them what they can be and what they should expect in a partner and a job. There is a reason Pat Summit was so successful. She coached the woman first and basketball second. She was tough. She expected nothing, but excellence. She required discipline on and off the court. She expected that her players presented with a sense of class. The following is what I suggest:

1) We have to stop calling ourselves instructors and calling ourselves coaches.

2) We need to start using the word "sport" in describing what we do. Sport has a connotation that means competition, expectations, discipline, and practice. Stop using the word "activity."

3) We need a certification system. Every sport has something. With that, we need conventions or conferences where dialog goes beyond how to write a good show. We need to discuss what it's like to coach kids today. What do girls face? What do gay boys face? What do straight boys face? What do lesbians face? Why does that matter? We need to discuss the obesity epidemic and how to talk to the kids about their weight. We need to discuss the rising cost of the activity and how it's pushing kids out. We need to discuss dating violence and what to do when we spot it, because we are an activity of teenage girls and dating violence is real. We need to discuss bullying. We need online materials and an expectation that anyone coaching at the national level understand those materials. Every sport...every single sport has something that is required of its coaches and we don't even have the most minimal basics of risk management and youth development.

4) We need to actively recruit and retain young women to become leaders in the sport of the arts. We need to fill circuit boards, national boards, judging panels, and show coordinators with women. We need to show women that they too can design and choreograph. Most national programs are male designers as the lead. There are exceptions, but we have to be honest with ourselves here and look at the big picture.

5) We have to start collecting data. It's the only way you can truly advocate and find gaps in your programming. We don't really know who is performing and who is instructing. This sport is a multi-million dollar, international, multi-faceted sport. If you ran a private business that generated the amount of money the pageantry arts does, you bet your ass you would be collecting data on your users.

How did I, a strong woman, articulate and educated end up in not one, but three abusive relationships? Because no one told me that it could happen to me and the more I climbed the ladder of success in career and guard, the more I hid what was inside. It happens to our girls all the time and it's happening in our programs, right under our noses. Many girls feel their power is diminished and we don't even see it. Many of us don't talk to our performers, but at them. I have. I did. And I regret it.

Finally, we must start telling the real story of the sport of the arts. We are a touchy feely group of people who fear honesty sometimes. The behind the scenes stories are the real ones and those stories are what brings us together. The personal struggle of the lives we lead keep us coming back to the safe environment of the gym and football field. We just have to make sure that we are looking out for each other and that the kids are being coached to be the best future selves they can possibly be.



I'll never teach counts again. Those counts will be coached. What we are inside is who we present to the kids. Our ego's and fears come across in our body language and tone of voice. We owe it to them to explore our own worth and then help the young people explore theirs.



As for me...

It's time to see what I can do, to test the limits and break through. No right or wrong no rules for me. I'm free. I'm never going back. The past is in the past.

The cold never bothered me anyway.

Girls and the Sport of Guard

Somewhere about 5 years ago I made a decision that my role as a guard instructor would change. I decided to focus less on teaching the counts and more on coaching the team and specifically the girls. In my own work, I've been lucky to be able to focus on what those of us in social services call "gender specific programming." Through this work of research and then pairing it with my knowledge of youth development, I started to realize that my work in an activity of primarily teenage girls, must take on a larger role than just 5,6,7,8. Don't get me wrong, 5,6,7,8 is important, but the way I went about it would change forever.

In my research, I was asked to look at how the media portrays women as sexual objects. For the most part, women are either presented as needy and weak or bitchy and powerful. Statistics tell a story where women during the NCAA Tournament receive only 2% of the air time to men and the same holds true for World Cup Soccer.  When women are presented in sports, it's as a cheerleader or sideline model on the field at the football game. In a review of movies and films, only 23.3% of the time will a female drive the plot. The Hunger Games is an anomaly. The book was called, Harry Potter, not Hermione Granger. Articulate, strength based television characters where a woman speaks her mind, stands up for herself, is career oriented and NOT crazy are few and far between. When reality t.v. entered the scene, we lost sight of characters such as Julia Sugarbaker, Maude, and Roseanne. All shows that specifically dealt with issues related to women.

So why do I bring this up? Once I started looking at the research and tying it to the issues we are seeing with teens in the schools such as bullying, I started to see it in my own colorguard kids. Regular, everyday middle class girls that the radar tends to miss, were dressing provocatively, engaging in relational aggression, and dumbing down their own intelligence. In one crucial rehearsal five years ago, I watched a seemingly strong high school girl get yelled at by me in rehearsal. She started to cry and then on a break walked over to her boyfriend and pouted, while he put his arms around her and "made it all better." I watched all of this. My inside voice screamed, "WTF!" My outside voice said, "You are not a toddler who needs her boo boo's kissed. Get back over here!" That's when I decided what was important to me, which was to build up the girls to stand on their own and to rescue themselves through hard work and discipline.

This past winter season as Paradigm was finishing its final rehearsal before leaving for Dayton, in a fit of blind rage, I had a moment that I'm sure will become a top 5 iconic Paradigm moment of all time. You see, when you teach a guard that is gender mixed, many of the girls tend to do what's called, "giving their power away." The boys are naturally stronger in the wrist and upper body. It's often easier for them to get through work that is often times, if not most of the time written by a grown man. So, in this one rehearsal, I wanted a particular count to move aggressively across the body. We did it over and over and over and over. The boys had no issues. The girls? Well, I can only describe it as "mousy." So out of the stands I went. Went to the floor and took the flag out of one of the girls hands and said, "If I was a woman...WHICH I AM...I would take this flag and take my body and attack the count AGGRESSIVELY! I would stop giving away my power and I would stand up and say I will not live in a world where I am second!" Now somewhere in that speech where I blacked out I'm sure, I was told I mentioned something about them accepting minimum wage and just trying to be rescued by a prince on a white horse. I'm not sure why all of it came out, but you know what? They hit the damn count...AGGRESSIVELY! You know what it showed? That it's in their mind and that many of them have been conditioned to believe what society tells them. Some of them see themselves as weaker and less than. I've seen it. I've talked with them about it.

One of the things I've started doing when working with girls is asking them what other competitive activities they have participated in besides the pageantry arts. Many of them who have been competing in something since elementary school, come to competitive color guard with thicker skin as do their parents. It's just opinion, but I bet I'm right that girls who play hard when they are young, grow to be girls of the color guard world that are tough as nails.

I watched my son play baseball the other day. Balls being thrown at his head, diving to base, and getting dirty. He also takes karate. Since the age of 5 when he started both activities, he has been expected to survive in a competitive and disciplined world. We know through research from the Aspen Institute that girls start competitive sports a full year after boys, if they start competitive sports at all. Participation in girls participating in soccer and softball is on the rise, but girls drop out at a much higher rate once they reach middle school than boys do. Once children reach middle school, participation in competitive sports drops by a little over 60% and for girls it's 75%, because of the push for competitive school teams, and a number of cultural and societal factors. This is why co-ed intramural activities is crucial. So, without any legitimate, peer reviewed research at all having ever been done on color guard, my hypothesis is that by the time the girls reach high school, many of them have either never participated at any length in competitive activities or were pushed out in middle school. When the girls leave the sports behind and interaction in media takes over, where they are told they are either weak or bitchy and must be beautiful, then this is what we get by the time they reach high school. Now, before every one reading this says that "the girls in their guard are not like that," remember that we are talking about a nation of girls and not just one gym full. I also ask that you look at your entire guard and not just the veterans.

My guess is that the winter guard activity is made up of approximately 90-95% performing female members and the head positions of design and choreography is 90-95% male. This is purely guess as we don't collect data, but observation from years of teaching and judging. The head of the activity is male. Most judges on a panel of 5 are male. Most women are techs. Does it matter? I don't know, but what I do know is that we need strong women in front of our girls to guide them and tell them that it's o.k. to be assertive and to take your place in the world. We always say that it's in competitive activities where children learn how to manage the struggles of day to day life. I think women of the activity have a responsibility to the young women coming up in the activity to expect independent thinkers, strength of spirit, and the courage to stand up for themselves. We should talk with them about their self-esteem. They live in a world where they are expected to be beautiful first and smart second and where an equal wage is still not equal. We should talk to them about moving through space with a sense of purpose, because rape is real. We should discuss what it's like to be classy in dress and speak and expect the same of a partner. When I left drum corps I was strong willed, but my self-esteem was in the toilet. I never thought I was pretty and that played in how I attracted men. When you attract men who feed that societal image of beauty, then you attract not so nice men. I spoke to a friend this year in Dayton who just got out of an abusive marriage. How can an articulate woman be in a marriage like that? She said it was because she never really saw her worth. I've been thinking about her since Dayton.

I write this today, because as we start another marching band season it's crucial that we coach first and teach the counts second. Remember that most of us, for the most part, are responsible for teaching girls. Girls who care about how they are costumed and care about boys and care about their body image. They care about college and careers. We have a responsibility to make sure they leave us better women and women who are capable of taking their place in the world with strength and resilience. I leave you with the quote I tell all girls I coach. "Don't come in here expecting that a prince on a white horse will rescue you. This is not Disney, you are not Cinderella, and I am not a fairy godmother. Take your place on the stage. "

Synergy and Signs

When a small child, I thought that success spelled happiness. I was wrong, happiness is like a butterfly which appears and delights us for one brief moment, but soon flits away--Anna Pavlova 

If you have a whimsical side or even a spiritual side and an open your mind, you might like me, believe in signs. A song comes on the radio during that one thought, signaling to you to go with "it" or in the middle of that thought where you are questioning direction, a butterfly lands next to you as if someone from far away is saying, "It's o.k. I'm here and everything will all work out."  I have a tendency to pay attention to signs; numbers, songs, smells, etc. I sometimes ask for signs. They come in one of two ways usually. In the form of a song or the form of a butterfly. Now before you think that I'm some crazy lady with 14 cats and a crystal ball in every room, I just believe that there are forces greater than ourselves looking out for us who have the bigger picture in mind and who only want the best for us. (I actually believe more in signs and less in cats, but that's another story.)

I was thinking today about synergy and how we use it interchangeably in our activity. In the summer and fall, synergy is often used to describe the coordination between the sections on the field. In winter, it's often referred to in regards to the equipment as it works in tandem with the body. It can come to mean a lot of things depending on when or where you use it. When I go to a show, I am always aware of the synergistic qualities that brought everyone together in that one place for the opportunity to experience art as it merges with sport. If you think about it, the inner workings of a drum corps or guard show require a lot of people working in perfect harmony with each other for months in advance. For the five minutes a high school freshmen gets to perform on the floor, dozens if not hundreds of people have been working behind the scenes for that singular opportunity for her to perform in front of a crowd. If you think for just a second about the immense amount of work that goes into preparation from the band boosters fundraising to judges being booked months in advance to designers planning the show a season ahead, it's a pretty daunting process to consider. Any given show day requires planning and coordination between multiple entities and people well before the first note is played. It's synergistic. In synergy, one can't work without the other and it takes instructors, parents, contest staff, judges, and volunteers to seamlessly pull off the perfect day.

Synergy though, is more than a show day and going back to my opening paragraph about signs, I believe that synergy is also at play years if not decades in advance of any one day we step into a gym or on a football field. I find it fascinating. You become friends with someone and throughout multiple conversations you realize that you have been in the same place over and over again, but never saw each other...or did you? In our activity, thousands of people come together in one single day, oftentimes without the thought of the others around them passing by each other in corridors and in the stands. Warm up and critique. The performer might not meet the judge for ten years and then one day will be sitting next to them judging a show together as colleagues. The first year high school performer watches her first world guard and a dozen years later is teaching with the world performer she once admired when she was wide eyed and youthful. That's how I met Ron. He was a State Street rifle and I was a dandelion. He was Heaven and Hell and I was a seed pollinating the dandelion. True story. When I saw State Street in prelims at the Pensacola Regional, in a time when WGI didn't host a thousand regional's a year, I just had to see the rifle line warm up for finals. So that's what I did. I grabbed my best friend and watched State Street...no Ron...warm up for finals. I didn't know it then, but I would be teaching with him, living with him, fighting with him, crying with him, and laughing with him just a mere 9 years later. When I think about that night, I think about the signs that were probably all around me to wake up to the fact that I was about to meet one of my closest friends. Interestingly enough, I haven't seen the high school friend from that night in over 25 years, but have been friends with Ron for over 21.

Recently I've been thinking about friendship. Facebook has done something wonderful for our activity. It brought us together in ways we never could have imagined. When before all we knew about each other was the guard a person marched or drum corps they taught, now we know about their children and careers and heartaches and joy. We are now living with each other as opposed to just competing with each other. The synergy that has been created through our collective understanding is nothing more to me...than a small miracle. When I meet someone from the activity, I now think, "Where have we met before this?" What arena or football stadium? What were you doing? What was I doing? How far back does this friendship really go?

After the season is over, I do what many probably do and reflect on the successes and failures. I evaluate my performance as an instructor and judge, but also as colleague and friend. I look at the activity at what went right and what we could do better. I also think about the combined efforts of all involved and how hard everyone worked. When we sit around at headquarters in Dayton on Saturday night drinking our cocktails and beer, I feel that's it's just so much more than the end of an amazing weekend of winter guard, but the symbiosis of a lifetime of moments when we all stood in the same place lacking an awareness of the other's presence. When you watch the 1996 video of the guard 'Everybody' perform their famous Peacock show in Dayton, you can see the guard I was teaching, 'Shaktai' standing in the tunnel waiting to perform. When I think back to that night, all I remember is wanting to beat the peacocks. I wasn't aware that on staff were two friends I would end up teaching with 9 years later and sharing our lives across the miles. On a hot summer day in September in 2001, I stood in front of the Alliance of Miami for the first time to run a basics block for auditions. Standing in that basics block was a person I barely knew. His name was Mike and he was 10 years younger than I. About 10 years later he would be with me holding my hand during one of my darkest hours. Without knowing it, stepping into a gym in Miami changed my life forever.

We never know who we will meet when we step into a gym or football stadium and as I think about the signs that probably swirl around us telling us to pay attention, I'm reminded of the butterfly. Butterflies are deep representations of the rebirth of life. From the cocoon comes the beauty signaling transformation and hope. As my mind closes out another winter season and awaits the start of drum corps shows I'm anxious to see, I can't help but wonder who crossed my path in the Dayton Marriot or UD Arena, who I'll be having a drink with ten years from now asking the questions, "Do you remember the first time we met?"

As my final winter guard blog post comes to a close, I want to tell all of you, the friends I love and friends I have yet to meet to have a fantastic summer and I'll see you in the lightness and playfulness of the butterflies of summer. 

At Some Point Everyone Comes To Room 148

You know when you send someone a text message relaying a piece of crucial information and all you get back is, "K,' but you really wanted them to respond with something just as thoughtful or at the least, "O.K..," but "K" was all they were able to manage? Well that irritates me. I mean, out of all the love, affection, and turmoil good friends go through, I believe strongly that we should at the least be able to add the vowel to the consonant. This is how I feel about life sometimes. We get so busy being in the middle of it all; family, work, and bills, that we forget to enjoy the people and beauty around us. We forget to put the "O" in the "K." As I've been writing this blog over the past three years , I've come to realize that being personal with you the reader and my friends is important to any story I'm trying to tell, as my ultimate goal with all of this is to make sure we are reminded that it's not just flags in a gym. This activity is the height of love and passion and Dayton is my yearly reminder to live fully and spherically or in other words...to put the "O"  back in the "K."



148. It was my room at the Marriott for Dayton 2015. On Friday night it was the place to be. The liquor flowed freely and the laughter was boundless. I couldn't even begin to tell you how many people filtered into that room between the hours of 11:00 p.m. and 3:00 a.m., but it was many and I can't say I knew everyone that walked through the door, but I feel that I understood them and knew why they were there. 

Someone once said that at some point in Dayton, we all wind up at the Marriott; Thursday night, Friday night, Saturday night...or all three. As I sat on the bed watching people stream in and out of the room, I couldn't help but think of the antics and escapades that have been committed in the name of pageantry within the walls of this hotel. If we were to be honest, it strikes a chord of, "What happens in Vegas...," but it's more than that and we all know it. Sitting in the airport on Sunday afternoon awaiting my flight out, a friend stated that the Marriott is like a hotel filled with ghosts of your past and present self. The performer turns to instructor and the instructor turns to judge. It's a place where the circuits from around the country convene and all of us from the alumni just there to watch to the people who work so hard to make sure each guard is given the same chance to succeed, assemble in this one place to say,"Hi'  and "I've missed you." Some of us even use the dreaded "L" word. You know that word...LOVE. We see that friend who stood by us in all our ups and downs and we say,"Oh my God how I've missed you. I love you!"

Life is a constant moving wall for me, It goes up. it goes down, it goes up...it stays up. Don't show to much, don't share too much. I've recently realized that there really aren't many people who know me...really know me. I do what we all do. Only show the positive side or the successful side. Only show that you're happy. Be witty, be smart. I have found throughout time though, and most recently that my system...well my system of personal interaction sucks. It seems to me that it's in Dayton where my full range of emotions emerge and sometimes it's scary and sometimes it's freeing. The wall comes down and in an unforeseen fashion the real me appears...if only for a moment. I love emotion and the smiles you see on the faces of long lost friends and the tears from a friend over that one drink where they finally stop lying to you and say, "No. Things aren't going that well in my life." My guess is that it's a mixture of stress, lack of sleep, a flood of memories, and too much alcohol, but whatever it is, I'm glad to say I'm a part of it when the walls of those I love come down.

Throughout the week in room 148, things became ridiculously funny. Ongoing inside jokes of years past and the jokes of the present  made me laugh so hard that in one instance I fell backwards out of a chair. 148 was filled with music of shows of the past and the dream of shows to come. We also had serious conversations about life and even cried once or twice. In 148 no one is off limits. You better have a sense of humor and be able to laugh at yourself. 148 isn't the room for you if you expect an early bedtime or noiseless experience. At one point, someone asked the question of how many rooms we've all collectively seen throughout the years. How many strolls have we made down those hallways to find the doors with a latch holding it open welcoming an unfamiliar set of strangers to become new friends? How many people have shared in room 148, but who are no longer with us? How many are sitting at home longing for the connection of pageantry days of the past? We are so lucky!

Upon checking into 148 on Thursday afternoon, I had a sense of welcoming as if I was walking into the past of an old childhood home. The room was clean and beds were made. That would be the last time we would see it that way. When I awoke on Sunday morning to empty liquor bottles from the two night party strewn around on tables and cabinets, outdated itineraries, and used tickets from finals the night before, I couldn't help but think, "Wow...it's all over. Another Dayton in the books." For just a moment it made me a little sad and already longing for next year. Reality would come back soon and the wall would go back up. It was Sunday morning that made me realize that sometimes we forget to enjoy life when we are sitting in the middle of it. Buddha stated that the trouble most humans have is that we think we have time. We always think there is more time to live and laugh, but one day there won't be another Dayton and someone else will have checked into room 148.

The great Billy Joel once said:

Though I'm living and I'm singing
And although my hands still play
Soon enough it will all be over 'cause
Tomorrow is today 

While in Dayton, from the time I land to the time I take off again, I'm looking at the clock. The time ticks away and as Wednesday passes to Sunday, I realize how precious our time together is. I don't want to see Saturday night end and I fight sleep for as long as I can. Sometimes I think, "Should I be allowed to be this happy? How did I get this lucky? How did I win the universal lottery?" It seems almost unfair, but then I think that we, all of us, created this world and by each passing year we recreate it all over again. There's a quote I once heard from the 18th century french writer Vauvenrgues. I have always loved it. He said that we discover in ourselves what others hide from us, and we recognize in others what we hide from ourselves. It seems to me that Dayton brings out the hidden truths of our hearts and minds. All that we hide and the fronts we put up come crumbling down in Dayton as the raw emotion allows us to open up to those that have always loved us. 

So to all of you my friends, I will see you next year and keep you in my heart throughout the changing seasons and I hope you will do as I promise to do and keep the "O" in the "K."

Dayton...It's a Verb (!)

I was 16 when I attended my first Dayton. I have found that over the years I have a hard time calling it "WGI." I call it "Dayton." Even in the years we were in Milwaukee and San Diego, I called it Dayton.

"It's coming up on Dayton time."
"While performing in Dayton..."
"It's time. Dayton's here."

Technically, the word Dayton would normally be considered a proper noun. A place people go. A place to be. For me, Dayton is an action verb. Dayton is something we do. Dayton allows us to experience a moment or a thousand moments. My friend Ron Comfort describes Dayton like this, "At the end of the week, we find that everyone's experience was unique and personal," and then he asks, "So, how was your Dayton?"

It was 1987 and it was my first ever Dayton. It was one of those years that people still talk about to this day. It was a time when the mannequins came to life and we played inside the fun house. Circle, cycle, circle...what? Dayton came alive with colors and we all learned to toss a rifle while making the square root symbol underneath. We explored Heaven and Hell and it was 1987, when I experienced triple finals for the very first time. At that time World Class was called Open Class and Open finals took place on Sunday.

Dayton. It's the one time a year when ordinary teenagers become rock starts and adults who spend their days as teacher and accountant, become icons. The alcohol flows freely and the laughter is boundless. I love Dayton and by the time Sunday morning rolls around and the last medal has been placed around the neck of the winners and the confetti cannons have been emptied out, we wake up to a reality that seems surreal and a little sad. We say goodbye to our friends with all the love in our hearts and tell them that we'll see them next year and we will miss them.

Dayton...the verb. It's a week filled with preparation from the moment you buy your first new outfit, to the final touches to a colorguard you are teaching. For many of us, Dayton is the time of the year where we leave the problems of home, the stress of the job, and the realities of day to day life, to go and play in a world where art convenes with sport and friends from long ago find their way back to the center of their soul. Dayton, the city...well, Dayton the city is nothing short of a a hell hole. I'll admit it. It's dingy, brown, and constantly under construction. It rains every single year. I find nothing interesting about the city of Dayton...the noun, but Dayton the verb? Well, it's a world that I live and breathe.

I love to see new faces in Dayton of the freshmen who are performing for the first time and the parent totally taken aback. I always wonder if their first Dayton is transpiring to be as exciting as mine was. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember driving by the arena for the first time and David Baker my guard instructor saying, "There it is." I remember thinking...AND? And is right. To this day, that first moment of the arena sighting is like waking up on Christmas morning. I remember triple finals in Dayton and watched as Union did the mannequin show and if you weren't there, you can't possibly understand. It was stunning and mesmerizing and haunting. I knew then, right then, that I would be back. I often ask friends, "So what was the guard that did it for you?" I remember Sunday morning Independent Open Finals and sat in amazement watching Miller's Blackhawks and the colors come to life. When the boys entered on red...well...let me just say I was a 16 year old girl thinking..."They are so hot!" Then there was State Street Review...Heaven and Hell. Some of my best friends today were in that show. That's another thing about Dayton. You never know who will walk out on to that arena floor that you will eventually be having a drink with later in life. It's the Universe saying, "Pay attention. Your best friend just walked into your life."

When I went to Dayton for the first time, the souvie tent was less commercial. It seemed that it was more about the colorguards there to share a piece of their season. You could buy their show shirts or a button to wear in support. I had a button that said, "My color is red."   It was a time when warm up was in the tent. God I loved the tent! There was a special feeling about walking into the tent. You knew that it was on. The time was now. You were in the tent.

When I teach, I often use the phrase, "I'm not telling you it will be easy, but I will tell you that it will be worth it." The road to Dayton is a difficult one for every single person involved, whether it's the performer, the staff member, the judge, the contest staff or the parent who sits on the sidelines for support. Each and every one of us work hard and often struggle to get to that Dayton moment, whatever that Dayton moment may be, but the struggle my friend...Oh it is so worth it.


From the moment you arrive in Dayton, to the moment you say goodbye to the arena as you drive by for the last time, it's as if time stands still. You are lost in a sea of faces from the past and memories of shows and headquarters antics, that rush you upon the first step you take into the Marriot.

When I think of Dayton, I think of it as a black and white photograph from long ago. Dayton reminds me of a time I've only read about, but have spent a lifetime imagining and romaticizing. Landing in Dayton after a year away and seeing the arena, while eagerly anticipating the exit to Edwin C. Moses Blvd. is to me, like knocking on the secret door to a speakeasy in the underground of 1920's Chicago. Only a few people know about it and you have to have a secret password to get in. It's our world and it's our underground. We are the lucky few who found the oasis in the middle of a prohibition. We found the party when the world around us stayed dry. Music is the cornerstone to our nightclub and is a place where dance and beauty converge. Artisty lies in the dress of the attendees and the cocktails flow as if we only have today. It is magic and it is love. It is life!

There is one song, that when I hear it, I think of Dayton the verb. I think of the people and the shows. I see the arena and the Friday night party at the Marriot. When I hear this song, I think of every friend I've known and the history and love we share between us. When Sunday comes and the speakeasy closes among a sun rising on Dayton, we see that the verb has become the noun and the world is a little less interesting. So my friends, I would like to close with this song and know that I'll be waiting for you in this sweet hideaway called Dayton and let's make it one for my baby and one more for the road.


Quarter to three. there's no one in the place except you and me.
So set 'em up, joe. got a little story
I think you should know.
We're drinkin', my friend, to the end
Of a sweet episode.
Make it one for my baby
And one more for the road.
Got the routine so drop another nickel
In the machine.
Oh, gee, i'm feelin' so bad. wish you'd make the music
So dreamy and sad.
You could tell me a lot. but it's not
In a gentleman's code.
Let's make it one for my baby
And one more for the road.

You may not know it,
But buddy you're a kind of poet.
And you've had a lot of things to say.
And when i'm gloomy
You always listen to me,
Until it's talked away.

Well, that's how it goes.
And john i know you're getting
Anxious to close.
So, thanks for the cheer.
I hope you didn't mind me
Bending your ear.

For all of the years,
For the laughs, for the tears,
For the class that you showed,
Make it one for my baby
And one more for the road.
That long long road.

Championships...Somewhere.

This past Sunday morning I stepped off the plane in Tampa from a long, but glorious weekend in Raleigh, judging the Atlantic Indoor Association's circuit championships. As is every championships weekend in every circuit and every year, there is a collective feeling of exhaustion that comes from a year's worth of passion and emotion, balled up into one weekend together. When I walked out of the jetway into the bright lights of Gate C, on an early Sunday morning, my Ipod which was on shuffle played Barbara Streisand's, "Somewhere." I heard the dissonant sound of the opening chords and thought, "Wow. Here I am back in the real world and all I really want to do is go back to somewhere." 

There's a place for us. Somewhere a place for us.

Peace and quiet and open air

Wait for us somewhere.

When I go through my life, I look for and believe in signs. I don't believe the universe makes mistakes. So when "Somewhere" started playing as soon as I stepped into the light, I felt like it was trying to speak to me. You can call me the crazy lady channeling Shirley Mclaine or you can just go with me on this little journey of mine. 

There's something about Championships weekend that allows you to keep going, even though you want to collapse. It's the adrenaline, the stress, the sadness, the happiness, and the passion all wrapped into one 48 hour period. It's rare in life to experience that much emotion in one short time frame. The dopamine levels of the brain must be off the charts during a championships weekend, because only with that much dopamine could the brain allow so much focus, stamina, and vigor. It's no wonder that so many people report struggling at work after a weekend of such immense pleasure. It's almost like being in love. You don't sleep or eat. You can stay up all night and the body's response allows you to keep pushing through, even though you mind says, "It's time to stop." After a long day at the show, doing whatever it is your job is to make the day special, there is always this feeling of not wanting to let it go. You linger after retreat just a little bit longer and hang out in the hotel lobby not wanting to say goodbye. 

When I watched the kids walking on the floor for retreat, I just wanted to hold on to that moment. An entire season of intense passion was about to come to an end. As a judge, it's important for me to see that moment. I need that reminder of why we do it. I need to see the kids with their balloons and flowers. I need to see every kid I judged that day just one more time, all together standing for a common goal. 

While watching them, I wanted to tell them something. I wanted to say, "Remember this. Don't let it go." Because as the song says,...there's a place for us. When life gets scary, you can come back here. It's our place. We are waiting. Every judge cares. Every contest staff member. Every alumnus. 

There's a time for us. Someday there'll be a time for us.  Time together with time to spare. Time to learn, time to care. Someday, somewhere.

When I go away for a color guard weekend, I leave all my real world stress behind. There are no politics to debate and the cruelty of life is halted if only for a moment. We are one. There's not another place in my life that I can find where so many people come together for one common goal and it's never more apparent than retreat at championships. Win or lose, I never see the kids leave the floor angry. There is only joy. 

We'll find a new way of living. We'll find there's a way of forgiving.

A new way of living. I believe that when I was born, the universe gave me this gift of pageantry and it would be wrong to not do something with it. Whether it's the one kid who only got one year or us middle aged idiots that come back year after year, it's our way of living. There's a peace to it that comes from the honesty you share when you create with another human being. Your heart goes into these shows and only in that level of honesty can you truly find peace. I never take for granted the emotion the kids share with us from the cadet guard through the world guard. It's real and I often wish all of life could be that honest. I wish in my real life I could be as real as I am in the gym.

Somewhere. There's a place for us. A time and a place for us. 

At championships I always want to tell the kids that this is your time. Enjoy it and cherish it. Don't waste it! I often wonder if any of them realize that this place of passion and honesty, is rare. In life people hate and they are mean. People do things that are not in the best interest of mankind. People lie and they are hurtful. Life is cruel, but in this world we call winter guard, there's a fervor of love that is surpassed by almost nothing you will find in the rest of the world. 

Hold my hand and we're half way there. Hold my hand and I'll take you there. 

Some of the best people I know are in this activity. We have held each other's hands in our darkest hours of life. We've cried together and laughed until our sides hurt. I feel that when I'm with them I'm a better person. We look out for each other and the bond only gets stronger throughout life. There are people I see only once a year and it's like time has stood still waiting for our moment to come back around. Time is endless in this activity and I just inherently believe at the end of each season, that I'll see everyone again. Real life seems to stop in this amalgam of seasons and we are able to focus on what's important...each other.

Somehow. Someday. Somewhere.

In the movie West Side Story the song "Somewhere" is sung to relay this message that there is a time and place where we will all find peace with our fellow man. The bickering will stop and life will become tranquil. We will be as one. It's Championships retreat when I am reminded of that feeling. There is so much boundless joy that it often makes me cry. 

As the kids were walking on the floor for retreat, I was immediately taken aback by this image I had. In my minds eye, I saw a snow globe. I saw a world we have created for ourselves that allows for creativity, healthy dialog, friendship, passion, devotion, and emotion. In that snow globe are kids growing up to appreciate one another. The adults pass the knowledge on and value the lives of the kids entrusted in their care. This snow globe explores music and art. Color is endless. People work as one. Everyone is beautiful.

So, as I place my snow globe of 2015 on the mantel and shake it one last time, I see memories of the past falling down as the snow and as the kids look up to catch just one flake, they take their place in the history books of this world we call winter guard. 

In a New York Minute

In a New York minute
Everything can change
In a New York minute
Things can get pretty strange
In a New York minute
Everything can change
In a New York minute

Throughout my life in the winter guard activity, I have always wanted to design a show around the Don Henley song, "New York Minute." I've proposed it to just about every designer I've ever worked with and none of them will bite. They just look at me like I'm high or something and give me reason like tempo this or rhythm that. They humor me and say, "Well I'll think about it." Yeah...ok...whatever. In my mind, the show looks at the turning of life on a dime. When I hear the song I see the image of a woman hunched over a glass of bourbon in a dingy bar covered in thick smoke from a lit cigarette, and with bags under her eyes; similar to the infamous Joni Mitchell album cover. How do you capture that concept of on a gym floor and in five minutes? How do you convey that feeling of complete shock and the disabling of time that occurs in the instant that fate takes a hand, placing you on a path never considered or thought of? Maybe the no's have less to do with tempo and meter and more to do with the challenges of my questions. 


This past weekend, the USF Winter Guard was involved in an incident resulting in a bus fire, while participating in the WGI Atlanta Regional. I am not involved with this program, nor do I know the details, but whenever I hear about an event that involves a pageantry unit while travelling, the hair on the back of my neck stands up and a knot the size of a grapefruit forms in the pit of my stomach. On the outside and from what we were told, everyone managed to escape unharmed, barring the exception of the loss of property. I was judging in Orlando on Saturday when announcement after announcement was made describing the incident and asking for financial support from the audience. It's interesting, because I've heard that announcement before. In fact, I've heard it more than once and could almost recite it by myself and without thought. If you follow this blog you know that every so often the incident of McGavock High School, enters into my thoughts. I've written about it multiple times and the article I wrote  two years ago on the 25th anniversary of the tragedy, received over 10,000 hits. On a cold Sunday afternoon after a WGI regional, fate changed the lives of kids, instructors, parents, a school, and a community forever. In a New York minute everything had changed. Everything! 

If you stay in the activity long enough, it's inevitable that one day you will be trolling social media when you read the announcement. "Guard involved in accident." It also could be a band or a drum corps. Sometimes it's a dance team or baseball team. Regardless of the activity, the end result puts it all in perspective and that perspective allows us to see that the activity comes second to the lives in our charge. It's coming up on March 13th and it doesn't matter how much time has passed. I am forever tethered to that date, like an astronaut tied to the shuttle while floating in space waiting to be pulled back in. Unfortunately, our story isn't unique. When youth teams travel, the ultimate result is that the odds are not always in their favor. Marching bands coming home from a late night contest. Drum Corps travelling thousands of miles in one summer. Winter guards taking vans to the local show just an hour away. Judges who work all day, drive home with tired eyes and mental exhaustion. There are times when we have released kids to go home after a long rehearsal day or show and they don't make it there. Many years ago, a local band lost several of its members when a carload of kids left a football game and as many kids do, didn't go directly home and some in that car never saw home again. 

Too many times we drive when tired under the mission of "we have to get there by noon." If there was a medal for the most stupid guard person in the activity for driving when tired, I rank somewhere in a finalist position. Mental exhaustion, physical exhaustion, stress, alcohol, and anxiety all play a factor in our weekends and that combination can be deadly. Just two weeks ago I judged a fairly lengthy show and was offered a hotel room by the circuit, but really just wanted to get home. It was only 2 hours away. The show ends at 10. Piece of cake. Ummmm....Yeah no. Somewhere about an hour into the drive, my car drifted into the medium and with absolute brilliance I did what most of us do. I kept driving. 

The reality is that many, if not most tragedies can't be helped. Shit happens. We exist in an activity where travel is inevitable and necessary. The programs are underfunded forcing them to cut corners where they can. They hire not so reputable bus companies, if they hire one at all. Some rent vans and have volunteers drive. Sometimes the kids drive themselves to the show. It's reality. 

I get highly frustrated with the pageantry arts and can't for the life of me understand why we as an activity don't discuss safety nearly as much as we discuss the in's and out's of designing a good show. In most sports, coaches and volunteers must take a minimum amount of hours on the topic of risk. These topics range anywhere from how to maintain good boundaries with minors, to the protection against concussions, and how to maintain a safe environment while travelling. If we do this, will it change our behaviors? Will it help the fact that we still don't have enough money to hire a reputable bus company? What about our stupidity of travel while exhausted? Will it save the life of the kids who get into a car after practice and make stupid choices to text and drive? The answer to that question is easy. We don't know. We will never know if it helps until we open up the dialog. I work in social services and have my entire life. There isn't a conversation that is had, that at some point doesn't flow back to risk. We assess risk at every turn. We learn how to calculate risk to determine if what we are proposing is worth exposing ourselves to the liability. This weekend while judging, I pulled into the show site and there were 6 kids directing traffic into the school, without the presence of an adult. Minor risk? Sure. Chances are no one will get hurt. Smart? I beg to differ. 

It was March 13th and in a New York minute everything changed. Time would teach me that death is relentless and doesn't care how old you are or how much money you have. It was March 13th that taught me that fate will stop you when it chooses and force you to look at yourself in the mirror and ask why. The song says that the wolf is always at the door, so you better hang on tooth and nail to the people that you love. There has never been a truer statement. There were no more performances. No more rehearsals. Nothing the staff could have done would have changed the events of that day. There is no blame to place and no one to sue. There are lessons, though. Lessons that say all passengers should be in a seat belt. There is the lesson that 15 passenger vans are awkwardly weighted. A band program that lost members of it's ensemble might tell you that having better communication with parents might save lives. A discussion by the band director that says, "We care about you. Wear your seat belts and don't text each other," might just keep the kids alive. If you are a parent, you are trusting  the band staff with not just your children, but your very soul. When it is all said and done, there is nothing that can compare to the grief of a parent who has lost a child. It is incumbent upon us to have these discussions. 

"In these days when darkness falls early and people rush home to the ones they love, you better take a fool's advice and take care of your own, because one day they're here; the next day they're gone." 

I know some things just can't be changed, but if we were truly looking out for each other, we would talk more about the lives in our care during these weekends of competition and rehearsal. Before someone gets into a car to drive after a long weekend of teaching and judging, we would ask if they are o.k.to drive. If we lived up to our words when we use the word "family" when describing our guard friends, by working harder to ensure the safety of all was not an afterthought, but the first thought we have when planning a season, weekend, or show. We would have more dialog with young instructors on safety. We would ensure safety is the number one goal, ahead of winning and medals. A good risk manager will tell you that sometimes there is nothing you can do to stop a tragedy, but they will also tell you that leaving risk completely up to fate is simply irresponsible. Enter lawsuits. 

March 13th no longer defines me like it did for so many years. I rarely even think about it anymore. It did change me though, as does every event in life that stops you on a dime. My hope is that we learn from each other and don't fear the conversations, as we have so many times in the past and more than anything, I hope we never hear about performers caught in the throws of fate.