Franklin Band Days

I’ve been reminiscing a lot lately about my Franklin High School marching band days, probably because it’s fall and because I’ve been hooking up with a lot of those old friends on Facebook. I played the clarinet then; I was TERRIBLE, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying marching band. It was a lot of hard work and dedication (both on my part and my parents’, having to come pick me up at all hours of the day and night), but I’m glad I did it.
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We had practice every afternoon after school during football season, played at the games every Friday night (many of them out of town) and had contests on Saturdays. Didn’t leave much time for a social life, but most of my closest friends were in the band anyway. I can still remember the thrill of marching out onto the field for a performance, and the even greater thrill of winning. We were state champions my sophomore year. My senior year, we were in the Orange Bowl parade and then stopped by Disney World on the way home.
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Even now, Friday nights in the fall remind me of playing at football games. Sometimes it was FREEZING cold. We sat in the stands and waved Confederate flags as we cheered on our team (now no longer politically correct, but after all, we were the Franklin Rebels). I didn’t know the first thing about football when I started high school, but by the time I graduated, I had learned all the rules and actually enjoyed watching the games.
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Besides learning about football, I also developed a lot of discipline and endurance from being in the band. I learned some things about music and rhythm, though I was a very slow learner on those things. (I still consider myself to be "rhythmically handicapped," even though I have since learned to play the flute moderately well.)
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I think being in the marching band was definitely the highlight of my high school years, and if I had to do those years over, I would do it again.
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But I’m glad I don’t have to.
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