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.