Tour, Tour Complete

In past years, I would rush to the Barracks the first possible moment to unload my trunk and liquidate my orders to maximize the free time offered Tour personnel before the Thanksgiving 96. This year there seemed to be no need to rush. After a lazy day at home Monday, Jamey and I drove to DC to close out Tour 2007 and make a promised run to Henderson Hall.

First things first; up to Admin where there was no waiting to liquidate. I turned in my ATM receipt, signed in the proper space, and Ta-da! Liquidation of orders complete. Out one door and in the next, we stopped in Ops to say hi to Fred, Preston, and the Gunner and to “muster” for my post-Thanksgiving schedule. Quick check in the Command Suite to find Gunny Kanteres, but his office was empty. Down the hall to Supply for a cleaning chit for the Tour uniforms.

Into the Band Hall we went; the tour trunks, once dreaded and foreboding, looked tired and ready to hibernate once more. Some had a uniform or two hanging forlornly, some were empty with the odd sock or empty water bottle inside. My trunk was still locked; evidently I was not the only one spending a lazy Monday at home. Jamey carried the heavy uniform bag down to the locker room, where he waited patiently while I “undressed” my uniforms before taking them to the cleaners.

After a last check for Gunny Kanteres and finding out he was at Quantico, Jamey and I left for Henderson Hall, dropping off the uniforms along the way. Once again I was disappointed in the selection of women’s uniforms at Henderson Hall; looks like I’ll be ordering online yet again.

With the unloading of my trunk and my signature in the box, Tour 2007 is officially over for me. The Thanksgiving 96 gives us time to recoup a bit before flinging ourselves into the Holiday Season; the Annual Holiday Concert at Wolf Trap, the Kennedy Center Honors reception, the White House Holiday Receptions, and the CMC Serenade. After the Holiday Season we roll right into the Concert Season. Concert Season will blend into the recording session and the parade season. By the time the Summer Concert Season starts, we’ll be wondering when the bus leaves for Tour 2008.

But, for now…Tour, Tour Complete.


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A Trio of Lasts

Friday

Monday was the beginning of the “lasts” – last Monday, last Tuesday, last Hotel; those kinds of lasts. Friday began the “last of the lasts” with the Last Program B.

Since Max was unable to carpool, and my son had plans with friends, John decided to drive me to Smyrna and attend the concert. We hit some back-up at the Bay Bridge, not unusual for a Friday. The view from the bridge is always beautiful; behind us the setting sun was reflecting off the main towers and the trusses, making the bridge glow in the early dusk.

While I was passing out folders and preparing for the concert, John was busy unloading my bus “stuff”; the containers of food, extra winter clothing, tour purchases, and the accumulated detritus of Tour.

Our last Program B; last Canzona, last Scherzo Capriccioso, last On the Town, last Escapades, last Ives. Soloists approach the last performance with a mixture of relief and pressure. There is relief that the stress of performing a solo is over, but there is pressure that accompanies the last chance to play it better than each previous performance.

As good as it felt to climb in a car headed for home instead of a bus headed for an hotel, I couldn’t help but feel bad (and a little guilty) for those still tethered to the bus. I was glad many had family visiting or living in the area. Karen’s husband was meeting her after the concert, Liz’s husband and son arrived while the Band was in Bensalem, and one of Leslye’s sisters lives in Dover.

Saturday

It felt like the beginning of a school break when I woke Saturday morning. No alarm telling me when to get up, no need to pack a suitcase or a lunch. We had a leisurely breakfast and planned the free hours before Tour beckoned. Jamey and I decided we needed to make a quick trip to the Amish Market. Lucky to find a parking space, we abandoned the idea of pushing a cart through the crowds in the Market. Whoopie Pies topped the list, along with some Wilbur Buds from the candy vendor and some items for holiday baking.

John joined us for lunch at Bella Italia, followed by a much needed trip to the grocery store. While I shopped for groceries, Jamey headed for the barber shop for a haircut, and John filled the kerosene containers for our Toyo heater. I’ve only been gone seven weeks, but the grocery store has rearranged the food aisles and started construction on some interior renovations.

I drove myself to the concert in Felton, armed with written directions and the GPS in John’s car. The GPS wanted to take me through Baltimore, so I turned it off and pulled out the directions from Google Maps and MapQuest. Once I turned off U.S. Route 50, the black of night enveloped me. It reminded me of driving the country roads of Kansas when I was younger; people here know how to use their brights correctly.

It was the last performance of the C Program; last Carnival of Venice, last Star Spangled Overture, last Carnival of Venice, last Holst Suite, last Le Cid, last Harold Arlen Songbook. Throughout Tour, Sara has sung her encore, Over the Rainbow, beautifully, always with the thought of her young son in her mind. So close to home, she started to cry, barely able to finish.

Lt Col Erwin was in the audience; as a surprise for both the audience and most of the Band, he conducted Stars and Stripes Forever. Over the years I’ve heard many stories about the days of Lt Col Erwin, so I was tickled to play for him. His tempo was considerably different than Col Colburn’s, and he took the piccolos by surprise when he stepped off the podium during the piccolo soli and stopped conducting, except for the occasional flourish here and there.

Sunday

Sunday at last; the final day of Tour. Even finishing Tour from home, I felt a flutter of excitement knowing once we finished today’s performance, Tour was essentially over. (We still have to unload the trunks and liquidate our orders before Wednesday noon.)

I didn’t really need directions to the last concert; we’ve played there many times as the last North East Tour concert. John and Jamey were off to DC for a soccer game, and I loaded the car for the Eastern Shore. It only took 35 minutes from my front door to the parking lot of Queen Anne’s County High School. Pulling in, I saw a line of cars parked on the grass near the tractor trailer, all pointed towards the exit -- family members picking up Band members and Band members finishing Tour from home, ready for a quick get-away.

Family members were scattered liberally throughout the audience, and even retired Drum Major Lee was in attendance. Last Program A; last Rocky Point Holiday, last Percussion Concerto, last Carmen Symphony, last Masquerade, last Salieri. Last concert. Charles and our amazing Stage Crew were introduced to the audience, receiving a well earned round of applause. Sara introduced Pat and Irv; it is their last Tour concert before retirement. Irv retires next week after thirty years and thirty, yes, thirty, consecutive tours with the Band.

During Sara’s introduction of Irv, she mentioned he had one dream not yet fulfilled during his career that would be fulfilled during the concert. Would it be the piccolo soli in Stars and Stripes? Conducting the Armed Forces Medley? The Marines’ Hymn? The patriotic tunes started with surreptitious glances in Irv’s direction. Stars and Stripes concluded, and Irv melted away to stage left during the applause. The Armed Forces Medley started, and Irv was nowhere to be seen. Just before the Marines’ Hymn, I spotted Irv in the wings on stage right. Realizing what Irv’s dream was, we all pulled out God Bless America for one last time. Sara stepped back and Irv stepped to the microphone as the Band began the introduction. Hearing Irv’s rich voice instead of Sara’s, I had to blink away the tears that welled up in my eyes as I thought of all the history he has seen and been a part of, the memories he carries with him as he prepares to retire from an amazing career with the Band.

It never ceases to amaze me how quickly people move following a final Tour Concert. Hugs were exchanged and cards tucked in bags and pockets as uniforms were packed in the trunks. Having already begun my transition post-Tour, I watched the goodbyes with a touch of humor, knowing that most of us would see each other tomorrow or Tuesday as we unload the trunks and liquidate our orders. Tour isn’t officially over until the trunks are empty and paperwork completed.

In Transition

Buried in a sea of pillows, I woke Thursday to the insistent beeping of my phone alarm, its quiet crescendo telling me it was time to get up and walk. Instead of the piercing glare that finds its way through the chinks in the hotel curtains, only a pervading gloom seeped around the edges. I crawled out of bed and peered out the window at the sky heavy with clouds and a sprinkling of rain. Karen’s voice came from behind her pillow fortress, wondering if we were still going to walk.

The streets weren’t very wet, but there were ominous clouds in one direction and a glimpse of blue in the other. After a quick check of the weather on line, we thought the mile walk to the grocery store would be plenty; hopefully we could beat the approaching storm. We dressed quickly and gathered umbrellas and jackets and headed out the front door. Damp and breezy, there had been a definite drop in temperatures over night. We managed to get as far as where the buses were parked before the heavens opened. So much for the grocery store.

With a rainy day looming before me, I decided to treat myself to breakfast in the hotel. Returning to the room, I found Karen engrossed in The Day the World Ended, a 1950’s B-movie about the aftermath of a nuclear holocaust. It was so bad it was worth watching. I tend to Google unusual movies I run across; interesting tidbits crop up. The director of this particular Sci-Fi masterpiece became known as the King of the Sci-Fi B movie, making low budget movies in about a week. This movie was his first, becoming the movie from which many clichés were drawn. The dialogue was priceless, and the unveiling of the mutant had us dissolving in laughter. We opted not to watch the following movie; it had a hard act to follow.

Karen and Audrey decided to take a cab to the nearby mall. I decided to have a quiet day in the room, assembling the traditional Tour Goodie Bags for the Tour Librarians and the Flute Section and warming up my flute and piccolo. Running out of things to do and needing some time off the computer, I sat in front of What Not to Wear and played long tones and Taffanel et Gaubert exercises on my piccolo. I’m sure my neighbors were thrilled.

Dinner was at Applebee’s by default – it was the closest in the rain. I had dinner with Leslye, Gina, and Matt before heading back to the hotel to load my luggage in Max’s car. Everyone was on the bus early for the run out; ninety minutes had been allotted for the fifty mile drive. Fortunately, traffic was lighter than expected, so we reached the concert site a few minutes early. There was a nice table of treats waiting for us, cookies and lots of veggie trays; the pleasant surprise was the giant soft pretzel to share. Everyone is counting down, it seems. Across the stage during warm-ups I would see four fingers held up and waved periodically. Energy levels are up as we get closer to home.

I changed quickly and gathered my miscellaneous bags for the trip back to Maryland. I beat Max to the car; the men had to change in a different building across the parking lot. We buckled in quickly, impatient to get through the audience traffic and on the highway. Traffic moved well until we crossed the Delaware Memorial Bridge. Two right lanes were closed, and traffic moved slowly, stopping to look at any bright flashing lights. We made good time, though, pulling in Max’s driveway at midnight. He loaded my luggage in my trunk, and I drove off in the dark to Annapolis.

When my alarm clock went off at 5:30 this morning, I wasn’t sure where I was for a minute. Groping for slippers and sweatshirt, I went through the same morning routine I face daily during the school year, helping Jamey get ready for school. John was driving carpool this week, so once they left I retreated to the warmth of my bed, eventually waking up with the sun streaming in the windows.

It was lovely to have breakfast in my own home, sitting at the table bathed in sunlight dappled with shadows of the changing leaves. A lazy morning is called for, not quite on Tour, not quite at home, but somewhere in transition. In a few hours, I’ll be back on the road, making my way to Delaware and the Tour Band.

Trenton Makes - The World Takes

Of all the Tour stops on the North East Tour, one of my favorites has always been Philadelphia. Usually given a maintenance day in Philly, we used to stay across from the Academy of Music and could make our way nearly anywhere in the city. My first Tour, I walked across the city to find the Marine Corps Legacy Museum and the site where Tun’s Tavern once stood. I visited the Liberty Bell and as much historic Philadelphia as I could cram in a single day; one of my strongest memories of my first Tour. Subsequent tours allowed me to explore the museums and the excellent consignment shopping available. My memories will have to remain just that – this year the closest we will be to Philadelphia is Bensalem.

Bensalem is our home for three nights, with run out concerts of varying distances. The concert in Lansdale was a twenty-five mile drive, but with traffic it took an hour. Pulling in the lot, we saw long lines formed outside a very new-looking high school. Hopes for another large concert hall were dashed when we realized the auditorium was in the old wing. The audience more than made up for the lack of space, their enthusiasm giving us the energy we needed to pull together another concert now tour fatigue is harder to dispel.

With two more nights in the same hotel and no daily bus rides, what once would have been a nice break with free time was now a painful number of hours to fill. Sidewalks are few and far between along the very busy highway, so exploring the area around the hotel held no appeal. Fortunately, Liz is staying with her sister-in-law, who offered the use of her car. Liz invited Ruth, Leslye, and me to accompany her on an outing to the heart of Buck’s County. Leslye declined, needing sleep more than a shopping expedition, so the three of us set out early.

About twenty miles away, Peddler’s Village was a delightful way to spend a free day. Peddler’s Village is a collection of over seventy specialty shops built around a village green with winding brick pathways and gardens. An early morning fog made itself at home for the day; walking around the village was a bit like stumbling across Brigadoon, complete with mist. We meandered among the shops, sometimes as a group, sometimes going our separate ways. We met for lunch at the Cock ’n Bull, where for the first time on Tour, we ate a meal without seeing other Band members. On the way back to the hotel, we made a stop for Chai Tea Lattes and a light supper to carry back to the room.

The run out to Trenton was nineteen miles, and although it was expected to take forty-five minutes, traffic was lighter than expected. The Patriot’s Hall at the War Memorial was a beautiful theater decorated in warm browns, velvet, and gold trim. Beautiful to behold, it was a pleasant surprise to find more than enough space on stage and good acoustics. Chris finally had the needed elbow room for the concerto. The audience was delightful, one of the first to refrain from applauding between movements in Carmen. Every piece was met with thunderous applause, and there was no doubt we would be playing God Bless America.

Tonight is my last night in a hotel on Tour. After the concert in Sewell, Max and I will drive back to Maryland and finishTour as run-outs from home. (Don't worry; Tour isn't over until I have liquidated my orders, so this is not the last post...) The drives from my house are all under two hours, the last concert only thirty minutes or so. Strangely, it takes less time for me to reach the last Tour concert than it does our regular season concerts at George Mason University (an hour and fifteen minutes).

It makes the transition to real life a little easier – often returning home is a little like trying to jump on a moving roller coaster. Life at home does not come to a standstill while we are gone; it moves along without you. Trying to fit back in without upsetting the routine is a delicate balancing act.

The Show Must Go On (or Stepping Back in to Tour)

Max and I left Bowie early as planned, hoping to avoid Baltimore rush hour traffic; Jay was taking his car back to finish Tour. We breezed around the Beltway and pulled up behind the buses with plenty of time to spare, unloading our luggage from the bus and picking up the keys waiting for us at the front desk. Thirty minutes later we were back on the bus, headed for Lampeter for the concert.

The high school was only two years old, with a wide stage and large backstage area. The hall was large for a high school auditorium, and when filled, it seemed like we faced a sea of people. Somewhere in the jumble of people I knew I would find a Friendly Face from Home, our Head Librarian, Mike, and his wife, Susan (of amazing food fame).

In the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch Country, the audience would appreciate the concert and enjoy the music without necessarily giving any outward sign. Lancaster County is home to The New Holland Band, however, and the love of Band music is deep here. Several of the members were present and were as familiar with many of the programmed works as each of us. By the end of the concert, the seemingly placid audience was as enthusiastic as every other tour audience in their display of appreciation and patriotism.

Following the concert, leftover funds from the Tour Party were used to host an additional pizza party. Tour promotees and the Colonel pitched in the extra needed to cover what the remaining funds did not. Space and hotel limitations meant splitting the party into two rooms, the breakfast area and Trox’s room. The breakfast area was the quieter of the two, with Trox’s room reminding me of the days of the Percussion Party. I guess I really have become a Toe Tag.

The next morning even Karen and I threw in the towel on the morning walk. I woke in the wee hours of the morning to what sounded like thundering rain. Creeping to the window, I peered into the gloom and saw a veritable downpour, made louder by the tin roof of the bay window below me. Leslye, Liz, and I were meeting Mike and Susan for an Amish breakfast later, so I curled under the comforter for another hour’s sleep.

Breakfast was a treat; I’ve eaten breakfast out so rarely this Tour, I had a hard time deciding what to order. Mike ordered Baked Oatmeal for all of us to sample and offered some of his scrapple to anyone interested in sampling the local cuisine. Scrapple is something of an acquired taste, so Mike went solo on the scrapple. Leslye was showing signs of Week Seven Syndrome, so we decided she really needed a Whoopie Pie in her life. She and Liz bought one of each flavor (chocolate, pumpkin, and chocolate with peanut butter cream) to share later; I will be interested in her thoughts. Whoopie Pie is a coveted dessert at my house (only available if we make it to the Amish Market during its limited hours of operation) with an ongoing debate over chocolate vs. pumpkin.

It was so nice to spend time with Mike and Susan, but time flies and they needed to head back to Virginia. I will have to remember to pester Mike until he brings me Susan's recipe for Pumpkin Whoopie Pie. Back at the hotel we packed up and prepared to move on to Bensalem; it seems like the buses are open and loaded a little earlier each day.

Stepping Out (of Tour)

Veteran’s Day moved by in a blur; we have not had a Sunday en route concert in a while, so we were a little out of practice. Karen’s husband was visiting, so I had no walking partner, as everyone else has drifted away from the morning walk. Since there really wasn’t anyplace to walk other than a vacant parking lot, walking went by the wayside.

The drive to the lunch stop was shorter than the lunch stop. The buses pulled into a large parking lot surrounded by restaurants and retails stores galore; the kind of place that makes the Tour-tired look around and wonder if a nice hotel is nearby. I found what seemed like nearly half the Band in the already crowded Panera. Getting mine to go, I perched on a solitary chair long enough to eat half the sandwich, wrapping the other half for later, for the drive home.

The drive home…a few of us are stepping out of Tour for one night. Reading is a day trip for those of us living in Maryland, so a free evening at home was quite enticing. Max and Jay didn’t want to stop for dinner (or the bathroom), so I was hoarding my half sandwich against inevitable hunger.

My lunch filled a whopping twenty minutes, and I found myself with an hour and thirty minutes to kill. Nibbling on the apple that came with my lunch, I wandered the parking lot briefly to eye the lay of the land. The shoe store seemed like a plan; most everyone else was headed for Target or the grocery store. I diligently worked my way up and down each aisle, trying on whatever took my fancy. My mind seemed to be subconsciously directing me towards brown boots, of which there were very few. I meandered back out into the parking lot and headed next for the Ross Dress for Less. No one seemed to be going in that direction.

My tote bag is about to lose a handle with just a week to go, so I stepped into the handbag and accessory area. It was so unorganized it was a little like sensory overload. Looking for a tote bag would be too much effort. Right next to the accessory area I found the shoes, so back to the aisles. I found two pair of black patent leather flats, something I have been searching for throughout Tour, but the fit was poor, so I put them back. Now with my mind on flats, I came across a nice pair of brown flats that could be worn with skirts, and a comfy pair of black loafers (my Eccos need resoling, which will cost as much as the shoes did). I stood in the long lines for about five minutes before putting them back and leaving the store. Patience is in short supply at this point on Tour.

Next door was a Barnes and Noble, which I knew would have nice, clean bathrooms and over half the Band perusing the shelves. Making my way to the back of the store, I encountered at least twelve Band members. Before leaving I decided to treat myself to a cold drink (chia tea blended crème with whipped cream, mmm) and found another ten Band members sitting in the cafe. Leslye joined the line behind me, and upon hearing about the shoes, insisted we go back and get them after she made her purchase. We are very good at helping each other spend money.

Back to Ross we went, where Band members were now found. I picked up the shoes from the spot where I left them and went to the now empty line at the cash register. Two pairs of inexpensive shoes later I found myself back in the parking lot by the buses with ten minutes left of the lunch stop.

Warming up on stage, I decided I was going to enjoy playing in the hall – it had a very piccolo friendly feel to it, making it easier to play without forcing. People seemed to be moving around as if in a fog – en route concerts are draining. There is little or no warm up time in the hotel before departure, and having ended a concert less than twenty four hours before, the facial muscles tend to rebel a bit. I probably had more energy than most, knowing that I would be home by 8:00 that night.

The audience was another heart-warming crowd. After rousing applause, we sat down as the crowd settled in and the lights went down. After tuning, a hush settled over the hall, in anticipation of the first notes of the Opener. From the back of the hall, a tiny toddler voice came out of the darkness…quietly, “Yay!” The audience and Band both erupted in laughter. The Opener probably started a little later than usual.

By the time we were playing the patriotic portion of the program, the audience was waving miniature flags at every opportunity. If they could have kept us playing past God Bless America, they would have. Once the applause finally died down, I made my way to the dressing room for a quick change and escape from Tour. Jay doesn’t play the second half of the C program, so he was already waiting back stage, and I knew Max would be quick. We were on the road before the buses loaded and in Lancaster by 5:30.

John picked me up at Max’s after we dropped Jay in Greenbelt. When Chloe saw me through the glass door in the foyer, she was so excited she started pawing at the carpet as though she could dig her way underneath. Jamey was not far behind, ready with a big hug.

It is only for one night, but what a grand feeling to be in my own home after countless nights in hotel after hotel. I was up at 5:30 to see Jamey off to school; with the Tour Body Clock shift, I had stopped waking at 5:30 every day. Coming home is always a jolt to the Tour Body Clock. I’ll have a leisurely day at home before heading back to Tour. We’ll depart within our paranoid comfort zone and be back at the hotel before departure for the concert. We have Plan A, Plan B, and probably Plan C, allowing for traffic and other possible calamaties, with directions to both the hotel and the concert site. It’s a small price to pay for a night at home.

Sorry, no photos today: everything was packed and ready to go before the concert.

Happy Birthday, Marines

Traveling on to New Jersey, we thought the audience in Dix Hills would be pretty hard to beat, but we didn’t mind being proved wrong in Englewood and Annandale.

It was a long trek to the concert in Englewood, and when the buses pulled up on a busy city street along side brightly lit store fronts, we were a little perplexed as we unloaded the buses. The entrance to the alley turned out to be the secret passageway to the stage door of the Bergen Performing Arts Center.

One of the more ornate halls, it was also one of the tightest stages we’ve had the entire tour; tighter, even, because it was a Percussion Concerto night. The repertoire for this tour requires the percussion section to travel with an enormous amount of equipment. Some judicious maneuvering took place to fit all the mallet instruments on the stage.

The audience streamed into the hall, anxious for the concert to begin. The enthusiasm of the audience was overwhelming, with standing ovations just for taking the stage and for Chris’ performance of the concerto. But they brought tears to the eyes of some Band Members when the front section of the audience joined hands as if in a prayer circle and swayed to the music of God Bless America.

Marine Corps Birthday began as a chilly, drizzly day, forcing Karen and I into the mall for a shortened walk. Not much else to do around the hotel, I found myself back at the mall with Leslye and Chris, hunting for Tour Gifts. Load in for the ride to Easton was well under way when I took my suitcases out; people seem to be loading earlier as we wind our way closer to home.

The sun was trying to take back the skies when we pulled in to the hotel parking lot in Easton. A welcome banner mounted over the entry to the breakfast area drew our attention to the red, white, and blue goodie bags waiting for us from the Mergens, holding fresh fruit, trail mix, chips and water for our drive to Annandale. In our rooms, further surprises awaited us; goodie bags adorned with patriotic ribbons sat at the foot of each bed, a welcome gift from the hotel.

Arriving in Annadale, the crowd waiting for entry to the gymnasium was so large the buses had to wait for the crew to clear a lane to get through to the parking area. We were welcomed by the Band parents, anxious to bring us water, food, and anything else we might need. When the crowd was let in to the gym, they filled all the chairs and seats in the bleachers; standing room only.

Sara introduced the Hometown Boys, the Brothers Mergen, who received a standing ovation from the audience proud to have members of the Band they could call their own. Once again, the crowd was so enthusiastic, I was wondering if we’d have to pull out Powhatten’s Daughter if they didn’t stop the cheers and the applause. After the concert, the crew had to keep the audience from swelling into the set-up. The Band Parents insisted on loading the leftover bottles of water and cans of soda on the buses before we returned to Easton. The enthusiasm, warmth, and generosity of our audiences and sponsors mean a lot at the stage of Tour; the end is in sight, but it without the energy of the audiences, it would be harder to dig that little bit deeper beyond the fatigue.

Long Days to Long Island

Tuesday morning we woke to dripping skies, puddles and wet leaves. I took one peek through the blackout curtain, turned off my alarm and crawled back into bed. We had no bus ride until the run out, so there was no rush to get up and go out into the soggy world. Plenty of time to explore White Plains later, plenty of time we’ll need to fill.

An hour had been allowed for the drive to the Bronx concert; traffic is as much an unknown factor here as it is at home. The only guarantee was that there would probably be plenty of it. We arrived earlier than anticipated, but much of the extra time was spent in bus maneuvers as the buses had to turn around on the busy street and back down a narrow roadway with parked cars on one side, low hanging branches on the other.

I was curious to see the size of the audience; the previous night an invitation had been issued to the White Plains audience to attend the concert in the Bronx. When the doors opened to the public, instead of the surge of people hoping to find the best seat, there was a slow but steady trickle. There seemed to be a wide assortment of people, a little more unusual mix than our average audience.

When the Band entered the stage, I was relieved to see a larger audience than I had expected. Nowhere near a full house, by any stretch of the imagination, although they were a small but exuberant crowd quite vocal in their appreciation.

Wednesday morning, without even venturing out from under the covers, the light cheerfully glowing through the chinks in the curtains told me we had a bright, sunshiny maintenance day ahead of us. The Walking Club seems to be dwindling, and only Karen and I headed out into the biting wind and bright sun for our walk. Since we had a destination in mind, this suited us fine.

Karen’s father grew up in White Plains, so we were in search of the family homestead and other landmarks in his life. Map and address in hand we walked down Mamaroneck Avenue, through the downtown area and past the commuter train station. Just on the other side we found Battle Hill, an historic site dating back to the Revolutionary War. Before us we faced a steep hill in order to reach Washington Avenue. Luck was with me – Washington Avenue was only half way up the hill; right there on the corner stood the house of Mr. Grimsey’s childhood. Karen called her father to let him know we were there before we headed back down to the cannon monument and back into town.

My maintenance day ended in a Girls’ Night Out with the “Canale Girls”, as my husband calls them. John’s cousins took me out for the evening, dining at a wonderful restaurant in White Plains; Mulino’s. As is par for the course on Tour, we found ourselves seated at a table next to Chris Rose and his in-laws, and not far from a table with Leslye, Matt, and the Colonel. The food was excellent, the company even better…a nice way to end the final maintenance day of Tour.

Thursday Karen and I set out to explore in the opposite direction, but there wasn’t as much to offer. We found ourselves back on Mamaroneck Avenue but decided to head away from the train station. Soon we were back at the hotel, ready to pack up and move on to Long Island. Once in Commack, I was able to step out of Tour briefly for dinner with family and friends; my husband grew up in Commack, so I had dinner with John’s folks, the Wittmans, the Serenitas and Mrs. Barkin. Emilio’s, yum!

The concert was in Dix Hills, at Half Hollow High School East. We were pleasantly surprised to find not only a fantastic facility, but one of the best audiences we’ve had in a while. After the encore, I was starting to wonder if we were going to have to dig around in the folder for a march from the first half of Tour (or, as Liz pointed out, there’s always Hammersmith…).

Following the concert was the Tour Party, in celebration of all things Tour; time to relax, congratulate the promotees, congratulate the retirees, and celebrate the Marine Corps Birthday a little early. Each of the retirees were offered a chance to say a few words. Pat Corbett declined, but both Mark and Irv took advantage to pass along a few words of wisdom. After 30 consecutive Tours, Irv knows a lot about touring. I was happy to hear we have the same philosophy about Tour. While being away from home for weeks on end is not an ideal situation, what we are doing on the road is one of the greatest things we do in this organization – we take our music out to the American people. Irv holds the record for consecutive Tours, a record unlikely to ever be broken. Trox added up the time Irv spent on the road with the Band – five years.

(This made me do a little math. By the end of this tour, I will have spent 94 weeks of my career on Tour.)

Peeking out the curtains this morning, I found a dreary day, overcast skies and low clouds heavy with rain. Karen and I set out anyway, eyeing the sky, only to lose sidewalks a block or so into our walk. We headed for Target, deciding we could combine our walk with a little shopping. We made it back to the hotel just as the rain came pelting down. Timing is everything.

(Picture below is some of the Band members born after Irv joined the Band!)

All That Glitters

As I stood to play the National Anthem, the glitter of gold caught my eye in the darkness of the community center. I saw the familiar Marine Corps League coats and hats, the usual sprinkling of military uniforms, and the miniature medals pinned to lapels, but what caught my eye was something not often seen, even at our concerts.

As the first notes of the anthem ring out into the cavernous hall, the audience begins to stand, some quickly, some with more effort required. Two elderly women, one at either end of the front row, were dressed in white suits and white garrison caps, the gold pins catching both the light and my eye. One rose gracefully to her feet, while the nearer one sat motionless, briefly. Tears sprang to my eyes as I watched her try to stand, struggling painfully to come to her feet, the gentleman next to her seemingly oblivious to her hand stretched in his direction for support. She stood proudly, as tall as she was able, sinking slowly to her chair only when the audience exploded in applause at the end.

These two women are Gold Star Mothers, members of an organization whose origins date back to World War I, becoming an official national organization in 1928. Gold Star Mothers have each lost a son or daughter in service to the United States. Historically, Gold Star Mothers have been a support network, reaching out to veterans by volunteering in hospitals and anywhere they might be needed. Once 30,000 members strong following World War II, membership has decreased to just over 900 members nationwide.

http://www.aiipowmia.com/inter27/in200307goldstar.html

Saving Daylight

Thank you so much for joining us
It’s great to see you today
We hope you will enjoy our show,
The tunes we have to play

Forgive this silly rhyme of mine
But words are on the loose
Because we’re here in Springfield,
The home of Dr. Seuss!

With this rhyme, Sara welcomed the citizens of Springfield to our Friday concert. It was greeted with laughter and applause, showing the good nature of the audience.

We had a free day in Springfield, and even if one stayed in the hotel, adventures were to be found. I spent my morning at the fitness center, not working out, but catching up on my laundry. A single washer and dryer stood between the doors to the changing areas, so I chatted with Rick (beating him to the washer by a mere ten minutes) and Band members on the tread mill and elliptical machines. After folding my last load on the towel table, I departed the gym with fresh, clean clothes. Probably ten minutes or less after I left, who should join the work out but Henry Winkler, choosing a machine next to Lisa. Henry was in town to speak at a Sci-Fi convention, staying at our hotel along with the majority of the attendees. I somehow managed to miss most of the excitement, but many people had interesting rides and conversations on the elevators; “Beam me up, Scotty” was a common comment upon entering the elevators. Next time you see Pat, ask him about the Puppet Man in Springfield.

I did wander out of the hotel briefly, into the attached mall. I did see many unusual people, who may or may not have been there for the Sci-Fi convention, but some were more likely homeless, judging by the state and smell of their clothing. I picked up the few items I needed at CVS and went straight back to my room until time for departure. It seemed a good night for some Hot Pot Cuisine; mmm, tortellini, sun dried tomatoes and parmesan.

The concert program was B-2, with Escapades, always a crowd pleaser. It was a good audience with a great sense of humor, and, as always, I enjoyed watching them during the Armed Forces Medley. Standing in the back of the hall, a police officer stood at attention, saluting, during the Marines’ Hymn; his white cover illuminated by an overhead light, putting him in silhouette. It was quite in contrast to others standing for the Hymn; most were relaxed or clapping. His very stillness drew the eye.

John and Jamey were waiting in the lobby when the buses returned. I made a quick trip up to my room to change before they helped gather my luggage. We loaded the car and headed for New Haven; the Band wouldn’t arrive there until after noon the next day, but we wanted a free day without travel.

We spent our day exploring New Haven and doing a little birthday shopping for Jamey; I miss his (and Jenna’s) birthday every year I’m on Tour, so we try to celebrate when and if they are able to visit. Little Italy was our destination for his birthday dinner, with cannoli for dessert.

The run out to Manchester was a hefty one, but the sponsor and the High School Band Parents went out of their way to make us welcome. A veritable feast was waiting in one of the classrooms, complete with “Press and Seal” to enable us to take leftovers with us. Seven Band members had spent time with the Manchester High School Band the previous day on a PTAD, working with the students on pieces we were performing on the concert; Holst First Suite in Eb and Semper Fi. All the Band students were in attendance, so it was a lively crowd.

Time change this weekend: set your clocks back one hour! Nothing like an extra hour to spend with my family on their brief stay; we chatted with Jenna and explored New Haven some more, spending a little time on the Yale Campus. We went back to Little Italy for lunch, eating at Frank Pepe’s Pizza Napolitano. Opening only 15 minutes before we arrived, the restaurant was nearly full. By the time we left the building, there was a line running down the sidewalk. The concierge told us this was the normal state of Pepe’s.

Sadly, John and Jamey had to leave to catch a flight in Hartford, and I had to get ready for another concert. Poor Karen; after two nights on her own, it probably felt like I was invading her space when I moved my luggage in the room.

Every time we perform the Percussion Concerto, I always wish I could turn in my chair and watch Chris play the drum set. For the first time, I was able to get a glimpse of what has been going on behind me all Tour; a mirrored window to the sound booth allowed me to watch some of the action. Evan was introduced as one of the Hometown members; Sara declared her career was in his hands. Evan is one of the behind-the-scenes people we can't do without; without Evan and Charles and the Crew, we wouldn't get much done.

After the concert, I headed out for dinner with Leslye, Captain Rakers, Matt, and Chris. We walked over to Little Italy, trailing a large number of Band Members intent on pizza. We walked to the end of Little Italy, though, and dined at Tre Scalina. Probably one of the more memorable meals on Tour for all of us, I thoroughly enjoyed my Scallponi alla Guiseppe, veal scallopini with sausage, carmelized onions, roasted red peppers and roasted tomatoes in a roasted garlic Marsala sauce. Even though I ate nearly every bite, I still found room for some excellent Tartuffo, with a little help from Chris.

Waddling back to the hotel, I caught up on a few phone calls and emails and decided to treat myself to a glass of the locally bottled Foxon Park Caffeine free Cream Soda. I’ll pay the price with a light head from the carbonation, but after tasting the excellent cream soda at Pepe’s, I can’t resist.

Greenfield

A brief foray back in Massachusetts; two concerts here before moving on to fresh territory in Connecticut. The drive to Springfield, where the Band will stay for two nights, was dark, with ominous clouds hanging low in the sky. Ten years ago we stayed in the same hotel with similar weather and less than favorable results – overnight, someone broke into the buses, parked under a nearby highway overpass; many Band members lost electronics and other personal items. Memories like that will often color one’s perception of a Tour Stop, long after the event, even with the passage of time.

Last night’s concert was a run out to Greenfield, roughly a 45 minute drive. We left a little earlier than necessary for a special “Gather Round”; two of our number were receiving well earned promotions. Leslye was promoted to Master Sergeant, and Bill was promoted to Gunnery Sergeant. Pre concert time constraints mean Tour Promotions are necessarily brief, but no less important an occasion than a ceremony taking place at home in Sousa Hall. I was trying to be discreet, taking pictures without the flash, but most musicians don’t hold still very long (unless standing at attention), so most of my pictures have someone blurred.

The concert audience was dotted with several young Marines, some in Dress Blues, others in Alphas. Many younger children were in tonight’s audience; with most of our audience base part of an older generation, it is nice to see the young adults and small children enjoying the concerts. A perfect Gerber Baby sat in the second row, cheerfully clapping with the audience. By the end of Masquerade, though, it was sleeping peacefully in Mother’s arms; pretty amazing, considering the volume level. While I freely admit the Band can play pretty loud, it was far louder than a normal concert, causing many Band members to comment on the ringing in their ears.

The two night stay in Springfield allows a travel free day today. For me this meant time to do laundry and repack before my family arrives this evening. The visit is far too brief to spend it doing my laundry while they are here, so I am thankful for the time to do it without rushing.

Rhode Island

Internet accessibility issues have made posts and email difficult the past few days. Hopefully this will improve. Also, please continue to check the Tour 2007 Photo Album, as I add pictures frequently.

For such a small state, Rhode Island certainly has a lot to offer. The founder of Rhode Island, Roger Williams, was banished from Plymouth, Massachusetts because he held “extreme views” concerning freedom of speech and religion. He was considered to be the originator of the concepts and principles reflected in our First Amendment; freedom of religion, freedom of speech, and freedom of public assembly. Rhode Island was the last of the original thirteen colonies to ratify the U.S. Constitution, demanding the addition of Bill of Rights, guaranteeing individual liberties.

Our first stay was in Newport; if you’ve never been to Newport, it is definitely worth your time to make a trip. The Band has been here on at least three of my four New England Tours, and my family came here for a vacation after I discovered Newport on an earlier Tour. Newport has a rich history, from seafaring pirates to the financial pirates of New York, summering here in magnificent mansions.

We had a great audience in Newport; they really came alive during Stars and Stripes and the Armed Forces Medley. One couple held a full size Marine Corps Flag throughout the Marines’ Hymn, and I could see many singing along. I heard from the clarinet section that an older gentleman made his way down to the stage in time to stand at attention by Sara while she sang the Air Force song; I’m sorry I couldn’t see that from my vantage point.

The next morning, Karen, Leslye, Chris and I decided it was time to get back in to the swing of morning walks with a walk out to the mansions and the Cliff Walk. It was a little over a mile to get to the entrance to the Cliff Walk, and the walk itself extends nearly four miles. We walked past Salve Regina University and as far as The Breakers, seeing some amazing homes before finally turning back the way we came. Walking there and back we covered about six miles, so we treated ourselves to breakfast in a little place called “Annie’s” we had passed on the way to the cliffs.

Walking in the entrance, we saw that most of the tables were taken by other Band Members either on their way to the cliffs or on their way back to the hotel. The food was fantastic, and I ate more in that meal than I do most days on Tour. The only thing marring the culinary experience was the presence of small flying insects that mostly seemed happy to cover the wall next to the booth, making the occasional foray into my face after I made the mistake of trying to shoo them away.

On to Providence, another frequent Tour stop. Just like Newport, same location, same Bat Channel. I had vivid memories of my first stay in Providence, with my uncomfortable exploration of nearby Little Italy. After the first visit in 1993, I knew better than to go alone, so Chris, Leslye, and I set out to find a great meal in Little Italy, rescuing Sara along the way. The restaurant we had hoped to eat in didn’t open until 5:00, so we meandered around until we found one open. It was a good meal; I was lucky in my choice of manicotti – the pasta was homemade and the ricotta was fresh. We hit a Dessert Bar on the way back to the hotel for some coffee and gelato, although I opted out – I was far too full.

Our concert in Providence had a little Halloween Humor behind the scenes, and a little right out in front. Sara’s welcome to the audience got a laugh and applause as she asked if they liked our “costumes”. Audrey had a lovely set of fake teeth she sported back stage that made it on stage during the concert’s final applause (with permission, I might add). The false eyelashes, fake teeth, and the audience touches of jack-o-lantern earrings and ghosts made up for the draft on stage that was busy turning pages, drying out reeds and whisking away some of the softer notes on the piccolo.

After the long walk in Newport, Karen and I were the only ones in the lobby at 8:00 ready to explore Providence. Map in hand, we went the opposite direction from Little Italy towards Brown University and the Rhode Island School of Design. There were a few more hills than we bargained for, and after the extra miles in Newport, we were feeling the muscles we hadn’t used over Stand Down.

For a downtown area, the neighborhoods around Brown were full of architectural delights and homes on the historic register. It finally felt like fall should feel as we ambled beneath brightly colored trees and kicked leaves with every step. The squirrels were busy, scampering back and forth across the streets. We found one carrying a baggie with those peanut shaped cookies inside; it seemed impatient to get at the treat inside, stopping to tear through the plastic before we startled it up a tree. On the campus, we stumbled across and interesting sculpture made of willow and maple saplings, reminding us of a hobbit hole.

Our explorations carried us back into downtown and over to the State House. It wasn’t far out of our way, so it seemed a shame not to walk the grounds. The founding beliefs of the state were carved over the main entrance which looked as though it had been recently cleaned. To one side we found a small garden dedicated to those Rhode Islanders whose lives were lost in the war on terrorism since September 11, 2001, the Garden of Heroes. The roses were still bravely blooming, even though we are now in November. Just think, this time next year, we will be home.