Pride of the Wolverines

Played to yet another packed house, Tuesday’s concert in Kalamazoo was Program C, the seventh shot at “the note” for Michelle and I. We were rejoicing in the venue – it is so much easier to tune “the note” in a real hall. I love Gym Jobs, but when the piccolo and Eb are left hanging out to dry for nine high, slow, pianissimo measures, give me a real hall every time.

Special guests awaited us backstage. 14 year old Taylor Bratton, a young girl with many health conditions, was waiting anxiously to meet members of the Band. She spends many hours volunteering with wounded soldiers and is often in Washington, D.C. for her own medical treatment. An honorary Gunnery Sergeant, she has always wanted to hear the Band, but her treatment schedule has, until now, made it impossible.

In addition to her mother and brother, Taylor was accompanied by Corporal Dean Cugliotta, a Marine wounded in Iraq. Having separated from the Marine Corps, Cpl. Cugliotta is studying to become a nurse; unable to continue on active duty, he is choosing to serve in another capacity, caring for others like himself.

With the cold here to stay, not many were up and about when I left later than usual for my walk. The front desk provided a walking map with four choices of routes of different lengths. I chose the three mile route, knowing my late start would make time an issue in I wanted to stop at the interesting little food market we found the day before.

Showered and packed, I dodged my way through some sort of librarian (Music? No? I guess Jane won’t be here…) convention, I loaded the bus and walked briskly to the Kalamazoo Building. At the base stood a bank of mailboxes – I chose one and dropped in my absentee ballot.

Not much pomp and circumstance in voting absentee, I smiled as I remembered taking Jenna and Jamey with me to vote in 1992. Jenna was five and Jamey was one. All summer, Jenna (who, at age four, had carried a petition door to door with a friend) was surprisingly interested in politics and the workings of government. She watched the conventions on TV; masses of people, flags waving, bright lights and confetti.

Our polling place was down the street in a church at the edge of our neighborhood. On Election Day, I strapped Jamey in the stroller and took Jenna by the hand for the walk down the hill. Jenna chattered with excitement at being allowed to come along for my vote. We entered the lobby, signed in and entered the small curtained booth, where I made my selections a minute or less. As we walked back up the hill, Jenna had grown very quiet, her face serious as though pondering something of great importance. At the top of the hill she turned to me and said, “But Momma, where were all the people with the flags?” I always think of that whenever I vote, and I mentally wave a flag for Jenna.

There was a sense of anticipation during the drive to Ann Arbor. We’ll be here for three nights. Wednesday’s concert was in Hill Auditorium, a familiar spot for many Band Members. One of the best audiences yet, Sara had the audience in the palm of her hand. Early on I knew we would be playing an encore for this group. The energy level rose even higher when Sara introduced nine members of the Band as former Wolverines.

We’re in single digits now…only nine concerts left!