Busiest Weekend

They dedicate their lives

For about a decade, maybe more, July has been my busiest month for bands. It was at its peak about three years ago, when my dad and I still volunteered for a Summer band that rehearsed every Tuesday and Thursday, and performed on Friday nights. It kept me in the best shape, and kept me reading sheet music of pieces other than marches, hymns, fanfares and Italian songs. The concerts were in a park overlooking the water, and were very enjoyable. But, in terms of my schedule, I can't say I've been missing that band. I still play every weekend, and occasionally during the week.

To running all of his

One feast I play for always falls on July 16th, no matter what day of the week that is. It used to run from the 14th to the 16th, but over time was trimmed to a day job. It's still a challenging procession that finds me in Brooklyn at eight o'clock in the morning, free some time after 2 PM, and returning a seven o'clock at night to play a concert on the sidewalk for two hours, followed by a short procession. This weekend, that particular job will be my third.

He tries to please them all

The first took place Saturday afternoon, a simple fire department parade. Unlike most gigs, we could drive to this one in about fifteen minutes. Living so close, of course my dad wanted to park his car near the end of the parade at 3 PM. The parade started at 6, but this small beach town has but one road in or out, that would be blocked from 5-10 PM. I lost patience with him a few times when he asked if I was ready yet to follow him when he dropped off his car, especially when he sarcastically asked my mom if she'd pick him up instead because he “didn't want to put [me] out.”

This bitter man he is

So we headed to the beach and were told we couldn't park there, because it was reserved for all the fire trucks. A parking lot up the road yielded the same message, and finally we found a side street where one of my mom's friends let us leave the car in front of their house. Later, my mom dropped us off around 4:30.

Throughout his life the same

The neighborhood where we gathered was paradise. It motivates me to keep working hard and saving my money, because I would love to afford a beautiful house with the ocean as my backyard. A cool breeze tickled the perfect lawns, and life was awesome. Three hours practically flew by, which was great since the waiting is always the worst part of a parade. Once our division moved out, the actual parade was a little over a mile and we were done within a half hour.

Hes battled constantly

In a few hours, I'll be up early to meet a 6 AM van to “somewhere near Philadelphia”, Pennsylvania. I'm not being intentionally vague for safety reasons; I honestly have no idea where I'll be spending my Sunday. Because our band leader grew up in Brooklyn and never learned how to drive, geography is one of his weak areas. He knows where and when we have to meet this van, and that the people hiring us are spiriting us away for twelve hours, including travel time there and back. I've asked him repeatedly for the name of the town, and finally the most information he conjured up was “somewhere near Philadelphia”, which really narrows it down. If this turns out to be my last post, send help “somewhere near Philadelphia”.

This fight he cannot win

So, I have a long and mysterious day ahead of me, followed by a long but familiar day on Monday. It's a good thing my regular job isn't anything more stressful than “drawing my pictures on a computer” as my dad describes it, or else Tuesday morning could be rough.

A tired man they see no longer cares

The highlight of my day, aside from free sandwiches and beer handed out by some fit female fire fighters, was hearing the true Unforgiven on the radio while driving to pick up my dad when we dropped his car off, and not the inferior sequel, which has the same introduction and often fakes me out. Enjoy: