You May Take The Floor

When you’re the problem solver for a good lot of people, those individuals expect performance.  The baseline expectation is that you’ll deliver, and historically, pretty much every time, I’ve delivered.  I suffer no delusions of self-importance; don’t misunderstand me–I know I’m not indispensable.  But when you ask me a question, I respond promptly.  When you ask me to get or bring you a thing, I tend to deliver in a timely manner, said item held out for your inspection.

Right now though, I’m not up to fixing mine or anyone else’s problems.  I want to marinate in an isolation ward. A mostly cheery, albeit smartass and bitingly sarcastic nature, is my norm though, right?

Here’s what I would like to share: success.  My son, my boy with this crap muscle disease, who’s becoming more young man than boy by the minute, help me!, competed in a team event.  He hasn’t engaged in a physical contest of any sort since around first grade probably, I honestly don’t even remember anymore.  For the past several months, he and his “teammates” under the tutelage of their band director and a cool dude experienced percussionist to assist-coach, have been rehearsing their behinds off for the district drumline competition.

Drumline is not for the faint of heart, yo, and the pageantry and air of competition made for a memorable, oh heck–historical, Saturday.  The two perennial faves did take first and second, but to see the excitement on our kids’ faces when they learned they made the finals in third place was more than I could have dreamed.  They scored the first music competition trophy in school history, and I couldn’t be more pleased for and proud of them.

They worked for months!  After school rehearsals a couple nights per week, and 4-hour mini-camps on off days and Saturdays, to learn cadences and choreography, and then rehearse their pieces while moving their parts.  My kid was beyond exhausted after rehearsals–trashed–but he persevered.  After Saturday’s first round of performances, scores were tallied, and the four finalists were named.  It was a moment.  As I often do, I marked this moment with tears.  Poor Cat!  My friend whose children attend two schools–older daughter in the top team and son, my kid’s close friend, had to deal with me crying in relief, disbelief, and joy.  Never once, since that horrible January day, if you’d asked, would I have imagined my kid participating in a physical contest such as this.  You’re thinking drumline is musical, and I must be confused, but surely it’s physical.  And it’s magic.

Drumline captain, are you ready?  You may take the floor.

You don’t have to, but you can watch their first round performance by clicking here. I’ll watch another time or two to remind myself that even when I want to fly solo, good things happen when you’ve got a wingman or twenty.

Stay tuned, friends–I’ll be back.