The Beat Goes On!

---

Where does everybody go when they go?

… I am here.

I’ve already seen the bottom so there’s nothing to fear.

I know I’ll be ready when the devil is near.

I am here. I am here.

All of this wrong and I’m still right here.

I don’t have the answers but the question is clear.

“Where does everybody go when they go?”

I am here!

You ever know what your life was meant to be? What in your past led you to be the person you are today? Questions that don’t normally cross my mind, that is until Tuesday night. One minute I am jamming out while watching the 82^nd Airborne Choir sing their rendition of the Pink song, “I am here”. The next minute I literally turned into a puddle of raw emotion. Then the tears don’t turn off and I can’t decide if I am sad, if I have had an epiphany or maybe it is happiness, and the tears are a combination of more than I can explain.

The way the Soldiers sang the words, with an emotion that made me feel safe. With a spiritual message that can be reflected in the years of service and sacrifice that families make on behalf of our country. Mostly, I think that they personified what all service member feel…Pride! Go All American!

My dream was always to be the commander of the army band; my dream was to play with Doc Severinsen in the Johnny Carson Tonight Show Band; my dream was to write marching field shows and be the director of a high school band program. I was on track at a very young age to fulfill those dreams.

The question posed itself on Tuesday evening: You ever know what your life was meant to be? Probably not, but back in 1975, at the ripe old age of 12, I had my world enlightened by the Black Watch Drum and Bugle Corp as they played loudly in a local small city park. My hair was blown back from the sheer blasting of the horns. The rat-a-tat-tat of the drumline made we want to march. Left, right. Left, Right. Forward…March. My life was forever changed.

I don’t know how we were chosen to be in the Presidential Inaugural Parade in January 1977, but I remember playing music on the airport tarmac for the cameras and then it was off to DC.

The largeness of the world was lost on me at 14 years old. Presidents and historic buildings I just cannot recall, however…I remember how cold it was, snow on the ground, a breeze that made the flags flap around, but the worst was how tricky the wind was with kilts.. just think about that for a moment! brrrr…………

My most vivid memory was of the clowns on 20-foot unicycles that walked right in front of us in the order of the parade. That truly was fascinating! Marching along the parade route past the capital and ending at the white house might have hooked me on marching, clapping crowds and feeling proud to be who we were. Our fans in the crowd would yell, “Go Get ‘em Ladies from Hell”. A story of history that all us drum corp kids knew well: A few hundred years ago, the Black Watch Highlanders from Scotland were military heroes and legendary for fighting alongside the Brits. Dark tartan kilts and red coats would make the enemy run away in fear of the “Kilted Ladies from Hell”. The Scottish of the past were a proud and fierce type who possessed intestinal fortitude and would fight to the end. Part of their fierceness was the kilt and how highly practical this battle dress proved to be.

Our music instructors not only talked about the Black Watch constantly, but we also had to follow a regimented process for donning our uniforms based on our constant lessons of who we represented.

Bark: The kilt is more than a skirt. It is a covering that will protect us against our competitors and the others who will try to take us down. The Highlands of Scottland are fierce and so are we. We are Black Watch and share the love of freedom and expression. Never ask a Scot what they wear under their kilt! We ain’t afraid of no rain!

Fact: The kilt is a tight weave of amazingly strong wool. The wool would create a barrier like a rain jacket and so the warrior stayed dry. There was the kilt and a jacket and then a scarf like outer garment. We would tuck one end into the skirt, then around the waste, up and over a shoulder (hooked on a lapel on the jacket shoulder), and then spread out across the back. In battle, the pleats could act like armor and could also be used as a blanket at night.

Visiting the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and Arlington Cemetery were loved memories, and who knew that a passion for marching and a curiosity for the sacrifice of soldiers would wind through my life and influence every avenue I chose and continue to care about.

Truth must be known: I was not much of an athlete because the opportunities were just surfacing in the late 1970’s. I couldn’t throw a softball more than 200 feet, I was amazingly short for basketball and gymnastics was an event that was dainty and needed extreme focus. Uh, not my gig at that time.

I was proud to be a “Musical Athlete”! That’s right, a Musical Athlete! There is a special place in this world for musicians! Just saying. Marchers, drum corp members, band geeks and all those who have an ear for sound and a beat for tapping toes: You are rock stars! The talents and discipline of music can be fun and demanding. Traveling for 3 months in broken down bus filled with 128 kids aged 12-21, what could possibly go wrong? Chewing gum during horn practice or running around the track with horn in hand and stopping instantly to play a song. The strenuous exercise in every variety of weather was a must and if it got really cold, warming up those horn mouth pieces was mandatory unless you wanted to find your lips in the same boat as putting your tongue on a flagpole during freezing temperatures!

With age, the military looked exciting because they had Musical Athletes as well. Perfect uniforms, marching all day long and playing catchy tunes. Come to find out, every military band member is a real Soldier too. Same basic training with high beam bars that I might have fallen off and drill sergeants continually yelling at me for rolling my eyes at them. While I was stuffing cookies into my pockets in the chow hall (I really thought every meal would be my last!) I was 26 in basic training and thought that every teenager should be shoved into a garbage can because they just couldn’t tell their left from their right. At the end of this basic training exercise, where people younger than me humiliated me like I was an idiot; I was no longer focused on my musical athleticism. I was ultra focused on going home and returning to my little life in Law Enforcement and the National Guard. I wanted to be in charge and that became my focus.

All these years later I realize that training for our futures comes in many forms. Never would I have guessed that 6 days ago I would give credit to music in becoming who I am. It’s more than the ability to march in a parade. It might be related to the pride in wearing a uniform that is highly respected based on battles of the past. It might be the lump in your throat when the National Anthem is played. It just might be to do something bigger than yourself.

The best of the best in our Military’s Musical Programs are military members first. During war they protect and provide security to the highest military headquarters. They are the epitome of the fiercest of fighters and all have the heart of musicians. Because during war after their assigned military tasks are completed, these are the kind souls that dedicate their off time to making people smile and forget their worries as they break out instruments and get everybody to tap their toes.

Maybe opportunities appear when we allow ourselves to take chances. To chase those dreams that seem so unclear but focus quickly based on passions unleashed. It’s so hard to move your feet when they are bolted securely in the security of the daily doldrums and comfort of our lives. It is about learning how to march, listening to others guide you and then taking steps on your own. We all must march to the beat of our own drum. Listen to the words with your eyes closed and feel the music behind those dreams!

Where does everybody go when they go? And the Beat Goes On!

---