Page 54 - 2019 UDMB Senior Will

that I can leave something so worthwhile in my time. Thank you for coming back and making this band feel like it use to, one more time. It doesn’t go unnoticed!
Haley Will: Thank you for being my mom so many years ago. Thank you for always looking out for me and for being so caring and lovely to me. Thank you for being there during the good times and the not so good times. Your love for this band inspired me to trust the journey I was on and trust the people around me. You are so strong and you have definitely put your trust in people who truly care about you and in turn you have helped me as well.
Girl Trumpet Players: Never forget who you are and never be afraid. Also remember to accept everyone's love and look out for one another. To be a female trumpet player is so extraordinary and that’s so exciting. But know that this is not the experience for everyone and we are so special. I have been so inspired by female trumpet players who have come before me and I hope that you feel the same way. Never forget your place and always remember that there have been so many lovely ladies that have come before you and they have set a precedent for the rest of us.
Brendan Laux ~~
June 12th, 2012. Short, stout, 14 year old Brendan waltzes into the High School band room for the first time to “check this marching band thing out,” chewing gum, a couple minutes late. Brendan, you idiot. Spit that out, you’re going to get told off for it in about 30 seconds by the assistant director. That’s going to be your first impression of marching band. Yeah, it seemed harsh, even militant. The gum isn’t hurting anybody. You’re not playing an instrument. What a dumb, little thing to make such a big deal about. Oh well, better just stick it out and hope for the best.
Your second impression, however, came very quickly. Meeting wraps up, logistics have been covered, band seems pretty fun, guess you’ll give it a go. Director and UDMB alum Greg Dalakian wishes us goodnight. Gum has long since been shamefully swallowed. Everyone gets up to go, band room is in disarray. Then a final word from the front of the room, dutifully obeyed by everyone in earshot:
“Leave the place better than you found it!”
Put the chairs back. Stands away. Thank the band parents. Pick up the trash in the stands. Truly little things – but so often reinforced. For what? What tangible difference do these little things really make?
Band can feel like a collection of pointless, little things sometimes. Why do we spend half of rookie camp day teaching stationary positions and hand positions without instruments, never to be practically used again? Why must we reset pregame if one line goes awry? Why do we spend an inordinate amount of time developing a personal relationship with Concert C? The classic answer, of course, is that if we all commit to the details, we’ll all get better as a unit. Which is true, but relatively uninspiring outside of the competitive sphere.