Rick and I went to high school lo these 5,862,543 and a half years ago. We were in, yes, marching band together. He on tenor sax and me on flute. We were dorks. Stunningly gorgeous, witty as all fuck BUT, nonetheless, rocking the dorkitudeness con brio.
What can I say.
Rick just leaned in and proposed that we were not, in point of fact, dorks. Frankly, at the time, I didn't think so either. It is with the vast swath of passing time, distance, seeing those damned uniforms and remembering the execrable march tunes we played that brings me to my oh-so-solemn //snark// conclusion.
OK OK, there's also the fact that I despised the bully-boy, militaristically stiff and artificially rousing marches we had to play. Yes, there's indeed some not insignificant beauty to Stars and Stripes and I recall being real keen on the band's theme song, Cherokee but, well, I'll just stop right there.
To get back to the point of the post...I'm in Vermont with friends I last saw back when I had hearing and lived in Boston, not Valhalla. Yup, been about a zillion eons or so. They're up this way for a relative's wedding and, happily, are spending time with yurs truly.
We'll bop around my fav little Vermont art mecca and head back to Valhalla tomorrow where we'll have a dinner party (or dinnah pahty as we like to term it) with Steve and Elaine. It'll be like a high school reunion but, sadly, we'll be missing Jenny who couldn't fly in from Arizona for the evening.