Gypsy Day

I hope you don't mind if I reminisce a bit for today's post. . . .
Tomorrow is Gypsy Day, the homecoming at my alma mater, Northern State University.  Not too many years ago, going to Gypsy Day was a HUGE deal.  This year I don't even plan to mention the parade to my kids.  I know I am just being a big gypsy party-pooper, but I'm tired, stuffy from allergies, windblown, in the middle of corn harvest, and this house can't handle one more piece of Frootie candy.
But, as I said, it used to be a big deal.  Someday maybe it will be again, with so many other things, "once the kids are older."  :o)
Gypsy Day was a part of my life long before I became a student at NSU.  Every year the college hosted, and still does, host a marching band competition for area schools.  Rachel and I would arrive at the high school with the rest of the band VERY early on that Saturday morning to get on the bus for the 1 1/2 hour drive and enthusiastically announce, "It's Gypsy Day!!"  Not everyone shared in our excitement, but most did.  That was the best part--our band worked hard to be "one cohesive unit" as our band director put it.  She wanted us to do well and we did our best to make that happen.  We practiced at 7:30am several mornings a week to prepare for the Gypsy Day parade, which didn't make the late sleepers in town too happy, but I loved every minute of it. 
The years I was marching, which would have been 1991-1996, the Eureka marching band was always in the running to win in our division.  We would bounce around the top 3 or 4, finally did taking 1st place in 1994.  The competition was strong, which made the victory all the sweeter. 
I still love watching marching bands and I can still spot a great one.  When I see a band go by with students with their heads held high, shoulders back, serious faces looking straight ahead, and their lines forming perfect diagonals, it makes me a little bit teary eyed. 
Even 14 years out from that experience, I miss that feeling of being part of something great.  Maybe I miss it more than I should.  But, I suppose it is the same for the athlete who was part of a state championship team in high school. and holds onto that feeling of greatness.  The band was my team.
My friend's daughter was lamenting to me a couple weeks ago that our junior high is marching with the high school this year for Gypsy Day.  She was not excited about it.  I offered to take her place--we even both play the flute--and she thought that could work.  Somehow I don't think I would quite fit in anymore, or fit a uniform at this point!
If you make it to the parade tomorrow, or any parade this fall, look for the great bands and show them your appreciation as they pass by.  In addition to the qualities I listed above, there is one more that separates the great from the good.
Great band members sacrifice their shoes and march right through the horse poop. 
Every time.