In The News – One More Time…

As I walk down Regent Street in Madison, Wisconsin the sounds of tenor and snare drums fill the air. College students donning red and white uniforms with furry plumes sticking out of their heads are dancing around crazily while drumming away. The dancing is an invitation to go along with everything they’re doing. We find our seats in the beloved Camp Randall Stadium, just in time for the University of Wisconsin marching band to take the field. I sit there in awe as these 150-some-odd people move around in formation and high-step simultaneously. The loud sounds of brass and percussion hit my chest as it fills the stadium. Little did fourth grade me know that the activity I just witnessed, was the first day of the rest of my life. I was hooked.

I vividly remember the sights and sounds of the round black drums that wrapped halfway around the marching band member’s waist. I asked if I could try out for percussion. The instructor asked me to do one type of rhythm with my right hand while doing another with my left hand and something with my right foot. I failed. I then asked if I could try the “slidey thingy.” Before I knew it, I was fitted for my instrument and the first day of the rest of my life began.

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