This I Believe - the ultimate Cadet

[onceuponatime]

This article was written by Cadet David Welch, 1984-87, and posted on his web site. I

regret that I am unable to include the powerful photos that were a part of his

posting, but I don't have the computer expertise to make the transfer.

Please go to http://www.38lemon.com/dailyjournal.php?y=...p;m=08&d=13 to see

the entire article, photos included. You'll be glad you did.

David is the most amazing person I have ever met. In the past two years he has

been to hell and back, but has never wavered in his optimism, nor looked in any

direction but towards the light. I admire him more than anyone I know. He is the

ultimate Cadet. That is my highest praise. It is my conviction that David was

put on this earth as an example to all of us of what might be, if only we so

choose. I am humbled by his example, as you will be when you read what he has

written.

13 August 2007

Monday, 11:55 PM

High-Level Journal Summary: The final chapter in my story about marching onto

the field with The Cadets Drum & Bugle Corps at their World Championship

performance at The Rose Bowl -- a story I needed to complete.

After telling many of the specific details about the evening, I took a step back

and related it to my experience with brain cancer. In the end, several thoughts

rose to the top, all of which I share.

But when I juxtapose the feeling I had going into brain surgery on 5/5/05 with

this moment on 8/11/07, it is an amazing thing. 2 years, 3 months, and 6 days

after I was wondering if I would be alive or not after going into brain surgery,

I was celebrating a moment which is among my very best in life. Both of these

moments were powerful, and when I remember them side-by-side, the contrast is an

emotional swing from one end of the spectrum to the other. It gives pause and

makes me celebrate all the medical progress we have made even more.

Countdowns:

1.) Day 8 of 28 in my 24th 5/23 Temodar chemotherapy cycle. I have had 9.5 hours

of intense and deep sleep in the past 24 hours. My body has been claiming what

it needs. My appetite is slowly beginning to return, and I got in a good 1.5

hours of exercise today. All good signs.

2007 Seizure Activity:

1.) Last Simple Partial Seizure, or SPS, was 4 days ago.

2.) In 2007, I have had 33 SPS's in 225 days. This is an average of 1 SPS every

6.8 days.

Actual Journal: I sort of need to finish the story I began several days ago on

8/10/07. That is the day I learned that I would have the incredible honor of

marching onto the field at the Drum Corps International World Championships

alongside The Cadets Drum & Bugle Corps. Since then, it has all played out. But,

what happened? What was the experience like? How did I react?

Canceling previous plans

I had tickets on the 50 yard line for Finals, but I ended up giving them to Mike

Collette, who I marched with back in the mid-80's. I saw Saturday as a

once-in-a-lifetime event that I did not want to squander.

I ended up going straight to the rehearsal site for The Cadets. At La Canada

High School, the corps warmed up for the evening show, putting in their last two

hours of preparation. I specifically hung out with the brass section of about

65-70 players. The intensity of the brass section was palpable, and it was only

fueled by the intensity of the staff, some of whom I marched with from 1984 to

1987.

Getting dressed

The brass section warmed up flawlessly. I mean that literally. It was so

flawless that the head brass instructor had no words. Gino Cipriani did not say

a single word. Not one. I counted. Not a single word. Hand signals were given

for the warmup instructions and for the music to play. Not one word was spoken.

I brought the buckle I wore in the 1987 DCI Championships, and a covert

arrangement with one of the instructors led me to Larissa, a trumpet player I

have gotten to know over the last two years. She ended up putting on this beat

up buckle instead of her usual belt buckle. Larissa was in tears about the

symbolism. 20 years later, wearing the same belt buckle that was worn in the

championship performance of the 1987 Cadets. We both loved the moment.

On the bus

I hopped onto the staff bus and saw old friends who are now teaching. They were

going at it. Totally psyched for the evening. Slowly, we made our way to the

parking lot of The Rose Bowl. We were on time, but everything was strictly

regimented. Quickly, we were line up and headed towards the stadium.

In the tunnel

It was only a matter of minutes before we were in the tunnel at the Rose Bowl.

The members gathered around in a circle and sang the corps song that has been

around for much of our 73 year existence. It is a song that all Cadets know, and

we always sing it before going onto the field for performance. It is a way of

bonding, and many of us consider it a spiritual moment. I was allowed to sing

along with the corps, all of us connected with our right hands on the left

shoulder of another Cadet.

Time to move

Then, the time for performance came. I asked someone to hold my fanny pack. I

stripped off my sweater and asked someone to hold that, as well. I wanted to go

into the stadium wearing a shirt that was in tune with the theme of their show.

I was wearing a brand new "This I Believe" shirt that entitled the show they

were performing. After much consideration, I thought that would be most

respectful.

I stood as close as I could to the corps as they marched onto the field in our

traditional block formation -- the entire corps packed together as tightly as

possible. I had to stand outside this block formation, but I was only about 10

feet away. I was the closest person to the corps at this point. They breathed in

together and then exhaled together, like a machine. Intense!

They halted before going onto the field. Joe Roach, who I marched with back in

the mid-80's, came up and encouraged them one with a final message as they stood

at complete attention. "Tell a story! This is what you have worked for all year!

Forget everything else. Tell a story. Tell what you believe. Tell your story!"

The best way I could describe the energy coming from these 135 members is that

it was like molten lava. I could relate, because that is exactly how we went

onto the field in 1987 in my final performance with The Cadets that year. It was

a powerful reminder of what can be created with a year of focus on one thing and

one thing only. It was a stunning moment that cannot be captured or felt from

the stands. It is an energy that can only be truly experienced by being a few

feet from this molten lava.

Onto the field

The corps went onto the field at the 50 yard line. I had to turn onto the field

a little before that so I would not interfere with them. I noted that the other

essay winners had crossed the field on the 35 yard line, but I talked my way

into going an extra 5 yards so I could cross the field (from the back sideline

to the front sideline) at the 40 yard line, instead.

As I looked up, the stands of The Rose Bowl were packed. There had to be over

30,000 people from end zone to end zone ready to take in this experience.

Amazing. It was something I remembered so well from my drum corps days...the

reason why we all do drum corps in the first place. Performances in major venues

for large audiences is an unbelievable and unforgettable experience. Just seeing

the crowd from that vantage point was exhilarating.

When I got midway across the field, I did something a bit unusual. I plopped

down to the grass and kissed the field. I secretly planned to do this, just

because I liked the gesture. It was a way to symbolically show respect for the

members of the corps -- literally kissing the ground they were about to walk on.

Perhaps this may sound silly to some, but in drum corps, we are brothers and

sisters who are connected across generations. This commonality of respect is

nothing unusual. When I came up, I had grass in my mouth and on my face. That

was funny! I had to wipe my face and spit out the grass. I was smiling and

laughing and raised both arms towards my friends in the crowd.

Performance time

The Cadets had not played a note since they left La Canada High School, and

within minutes, they kicked off the most physically demanding show of the year.

I was sitting in the front row just getting my face blown off, knowing full well

that what I was seeing was world class. This was an unusual program with talent

and particular skill sets that cannot be found anywhere else in the world beyond

drum corps. I was amazed.

It was all over in 11 minutes. A year of work to get a performance like that and

it was all over in that short a period of time.

We went behind the stadium after the show and hung out while the final corps of

the evening performed. Everyone knew that they had played extremely well and

that they had laid everything on the line. We had time for photographs and for

lots of hugs. I was delighted when the current mellophone section asked me to

join them in one of their group photographs.

Summing all this up

I could go on and on and one with details about this evening. Hopefully the

above details paint some of the details for what this experience was like. But

in relating this evening to the world of brain cancer, which is always the

intent of my 38 Lemon online journal entries, I had active thoughts about my

brain cancer as I went through this evening. What did I think? As I crossed that

field with my old corps, I had several powerful thoughts.

1.) I never would have guessed this moment 20 years ago as I was marching my

age-out year with The Cadets.

2.) I am just #### thankful to be alive.

3.) Thank you, thank you, thank you Dr. Patrick J. Kelly. God bless you for

debulking my brain tumor in a way that still allows me to walk and talk.

4.) We need to have better treatments for brain cancer so that more and more

people can have stabilization of their brain cancer and go on to have life

experiences otherwise taken from them.

Complete inspiration

I learned so much from this experience this evening -- from these kids who

marched at that level of performance with The Cadets. They are literal reminders

of what can indeed be done when there is focus and energy for sustained periods

of time towards a common goal, throughout good times and bad. There they were --

living it and exemplifying it.

It was that unexpected moment when they were just about to touch the field of

performance that struck me the most. When Joe Roach was telling them to focus

and tell a story as they gazed straight ahead with the kind of intensity that

can only be felt, not described. That was the moment. That was the moment I will

not forget...that made the entire trip to California during chemo week worth it,

in and of itself.

Final thoughts

When I talked with Larissa after the show and got my belt buckle back, she said

that she caught me out of the corner of her eye when she walked on the field.

She saw me kissing the field they were about to march on, and she was moved

powerfully by wearing a belt buckle that symbolized generations of people who

carry the same values as this current generation of Cadets. That is why writing

my "This I Believe" essay was one of the easiest things I have ever written.

What an incredible honor to be a part of this evening in this way. It was an

outright gift, and it just makes me want to live so much harder in this world. I

may sound effusive in the moment, but I will take such criticism without

objecting. I'm right on that edge.

When I juxtapose the feeling I had going into brain surgery on 5/5/05 with this

moment on 8/11/07, it is an amazing thing. 2 years, 3 months, and 6 days after I

was wondering if I would be alive or not after going into brain surgery, I was

celebrating a moment which is among my very best in life.

Both of these moments were powerful, and when I remember them side-by-side, the

contrast is an emotional swing from one end of the spectrum to the other. It

gives pause and makes me celebrate all the medical progress we have made even

more. And for all this portends, amen.

For Holy Name shall always be...

[niteblaze102]

I was going to just say... "Cadet Thread #2232" but this is a little different

[SpookyKid]

Amen indeed.

This was one of the most powerful things I've seen posted.

[year1buick]

Wow, really amazing story. I think I read a post last week from someone who thought they saw Hopkins kiss the field-must have been you! Thanks for sharing--hope your recovery goes well.

edit: still thinking about this...

Your story reminded me of an event from when I worked on the crew of ****** & Friends. We had a little girl come visit the set thru the Make A Wish foundation. She had terminal cancer and was wheelchair bound. Prior to the meet-n-greet, her parents told us that they hadn't seen her smile in over three months and that the visit really meant a lot to them. Well, five minutes later, she was on the set with ******, wheeling around to "Wheels on the Bus" and giggling and laughing like crazy. Needless to say, most of the crew (and, of course, her parents) were in tears.

How this relates to drum corps? I can't tell you the number of times I heard rude remarks about working on the show--one person even had the gall to ask, "Don't you just wish they'd just blow him up?" Really. Seeing that little girl in a happy moment reminded us all about the real reasons we do the things we do and what really matters most in life. How knowing for yourself, even if you're the only one who knows or believes, is sometimes all that matters. Despite what so many people say about The Cadets and their show this year, I believe the crux of what they are saying is true, and does mean something. This story reminds me of the real reason I love drum corps so much and why I marched.

Edited November 3, 2010 by year1buick

[PercussiveEric]

speechless

[WMC85]

Great posting. A true winner in every sense.

Good luck with the recovery.

[chris ncsu]

:)

[LAMystreaux]

Wow. :)

[MJN]

What a great story

[IRMO]

Thank you for sharing this with us.