In a matter of minutes, as I write this, it will be the Summer Solstice for the Northern Hemisphere; the longest day and the shortest night of the year. Last night, the Band performed the first concert of the summer season.
The Autumnal Equinox will fall during Tour rehearsals, just over a week before departure. How fitting, then, that the Tour Roster and roommate sign-up sheet were posted today, as the Earth begins its trek to the other side of the sun.
Wind clips go flying
Surrey With The Fringe On Top
Summer band begins
~ original Band Haiku by Beth
Friday, June 20, 2008
Sunday, June 15, 2008
"T" is for Tour
“I said the ‘T’ word at dinner,” Michelle spoke quietly as we warmed up before rehearsal.
I glanced at her with sympathy and understanding. She looked back at me, then back at her Eb clarinet, fiddling with the reed.
“Lisa sent out the Tour picks, so it seemed like a good time.” She sighed.
Tour rumblings started several weeks ago with the departure of the Tour Advance personnel. It is to be our first 31-day Tour, so interest and curiosity is somewhat heightened this year. A tentative itinerary and a small map pinpointing concert locations materialized on the bulletin board outside the Public Affairs offices around the same time. Last week a series of e-mails appeared in the Inbox, requesting “Tour picks” from each of the sections, announcing Tour soloists, and a notice that the Tour roster and roommate sign-up sheets would be posted in the near future.
Although the Summer Concert Season has barely started, that small compartment in our brains labeled “Tour” has quietly opened, tucking away the details as they arrive, allowing our subconscious to process and prepare.
While sometimes it seems we are either 1) On Tour, 2) Recovering From Tour, or 3) Preparing For Tour, the topic of Tour can be very delicate on the home front, especially for those that tour often. Mention it too soon and anxiety and friction can be created needlessly, more so with younger children.
On the bright side, what was once a 52-day Tour is now a mere 32 days. Before the creation of Stand-down, Tour was seven and a half weeks of concerts with three maintenance days. The fourth week was the half-way point, and the remaining weeks seemed to stretch endlessly before you. But now, week four will be the final week, the week of “lasts” that tick away so quickly. It almost boggles the mind.
There are plenty of things to do before active planning and preparation, though. The Summer Concert Season is just getting under way, Parade Season is in full swing, the Birthday Concert with John Williams is right around the corner; who knows what else summer will bring?
I glanced at her with sympathy and understanding. She looked back at me, then back at her Eb clarinet, fiddling with the reed.
“Lisa sent out the Tour picks, so it seemed like a good time.” She sighed.
Tour rumblings started several weeks ago with the departure of the Tour Advance personnel. It is to be our first 31-day Tour, so interest and curiosity is somewhat heightened this year. A tentative itinerary and a small map pinpointing concert locations materialized on the bulletin board outside the Public Affairs offices around the same time. Last week a series of e-mails appeared in the Inbox, requesting “Tour picks” from each of the sections, announcing Tour soloists, and a notice that the Tour roster and roommate sign-up sheets would be posted in the near future.
Although the Summer Concert Season has barely started, that small compartment in our brains labeled “Tour” has quietly opened, tucking away the details as they arrive, allowing our subconscious to process and prepare.
While sometimes it seems we are either 1) On Tour, 2) Recovering From Tour, or 3) Preparing For Tour, the topic of Tour can be very delicate on the home front, especially for those that tour often. Mention it too soon and anxiety and friction can be created needlessly, more so with younger children.
On the bright side, what was once a 52-day Tour is now a mere 32 days. Before the creation of Stand-down, Tour was seven and a half weeks of concerts with three maintenance days. The fourth week was the half-way point, and the remaining weeks seemed to stretch endlessly before you. But now, week four will be the final week, the week of “lasts” that tick away so quickly. It almost boggles the mind.
There are plenty of things to do before active planning and preparation, though. The Summer Concert Season is just getting under way, Parade Season is in full swing, the Birthday Concert with John Williams is right around the corner; who knows what else summer will bring?
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Tour, Tour Complete
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;
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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Sunday, November 18, 2007
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Friday, November 16, 2007
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.
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.
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.
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