It was my first real contest of the season, and my first season in
marching band. Because I played an instrument during concerst season
that was 'inappropriate' for marching (the wonderful burping bedpost,
also known as the bassoon), I was relegated to the Pit section. In
other words, I got to play bells, maracas, suspended symbol--all those
instruments that the real percussionists can't play because they are
too busy playing drums or doing nifty things on the marimba.
It was a windy day, that Saturday in September. That morning during
practice, I had gone through a rather interesting lesson in how to
correctly hit the gong. After passing my instructor's rather tough
test (he was a bassoonist too, not that it matters), I felt that I was
adequately prepared to play that gong.
The music was building up, and soon I would get my chance to show off
to the world (or at least those present in the stadium) that, if nothing
else, the gong would be remembered. A bit of foreshadowing, if I'd thought
to take it that way. Anyways, the time for me to hit that gong approached,
and then it was time! I hit the gong just like my instructor told me to,
albeit with a bit more force since I was a bit excited. A resounding
BONG filled the filled, followed by a THUNK. As I said before, it was
a windy day, and the wind decided to gust at the very moment that I hit
the gong. The gong tipped over, and then started to roll down the field.
I spent the rest of the number chasing down the field after that gong.
The next week, the gong was mounted on a new gong stand, and no matter
how hard we tried (those of us in the Pit), we just couldn't get the gong
off of the stand.
:)
Kathy Wallace
:
David A. Enete