Tis the Season....

FOR FOOTBALL!!!!! 

And when I say football, I clearly mean MARCHING BAND!!!

And by that I am dead serious, because, folks, this house is chuck full of band nerds.  I mean it, 100% of the three adults living under our roof are born and bred true band geeks.  History lesson?  Michael plays sax- alto sax, bari sax, and even tenor sax on occasion.  In high school he was drum major for 3 years (although they were called field commanders.  To me this is just weird).  He lived for his KK Psi brothers (the band honorary fraternity) at UC.  He worked hard with equipment crews and band room duties and fundraising activities.  We were at every event from dawn til dusk (exaggeration, but seriously- we were usually one of the first there and last to leave).

Me?  I was a pianist before I could say my name.  I later learned flute and piccolo, and then joined the colorguard.  I wasn't quite as devoted as Michael, but I still worked hard.  I was section leader.  I was voted best musician.  I played a solo at state merely days after knee surgery while I was hyped up on vicadin and STILL was only 1 point away from an excellent rating!

Ahem... Anyways.  Yes, even now, years after graduating and leaving the college world for adulthood, we are still band geeks at heart.  We show up 2 hours before the game (usually earlier).  We haul equipment, wear uniforms and bright shiny field passes, push prod and haul band kids into formation, and then watch a football game from the sideline (where you can see approximately nothing).  We listen to really loud music right next to us while shouting at refs and cheering with the squads.  At half time Michael takes his camera to record while I haul equipment.  We watch the band do their thing while most are getting pizza.  We haul everything back and then feed them all like toddlers, because they always need a sugar rush to survive the third quarter lull.  We lose our voices.  At the end we haul everything back, shake hands, watch the band kids dance, comment on the game, then go grab a beer with the other alumni (who are incidentally doing the same thing as you are).  However, before we can leave the field we always pay tribute to the Alma Mater- heads held high, arms linked together.  

This is our football season.  We root our BEARCATS on every game.  We're there in the rain, or with serious colds (possibly the flu).  Sometimes both (see: this weekend).  We love our team, even when they lose (or lose their coach- see: Notre Dame lost and I want to gloat).  Hell, we even make our holiday plans around our team's schedule.  Last year Mike and I celebrated 4 years in New Orleans, band style, cuz that's just how we roll.  This is what we do.


I wouldn't change it for all the money in the world.