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Life is so weird.
Thanks to Facebook, I've been getting back in touch with some of my old friends from marching band.
One of those friends is Jenn. She's doing well. Two boys, husband, somewhere in Florida.
Just found out her father was declared braindead from a surgery complication. Shouldn't have happened, but it did.
Her mom & dad were THEE SHIT. Some of the best band parents ever. At every game, every competition, chaperoned everything. Taught us songs we shouldn't have learned (Ya piss me off, fuckin' jerk! get on mah nerves! heh.)
My mom couldn't (or wouldn't, whatever) cover the cost of my Florida band trip. I sold a FUCK TON of poinsettas and wreaths (our fundraiser) and managed to bring my cost down, but couldn't cover the $300 leftover for the trip.
Much like a lot of things in my life, i resigned to the fact that I just couldn't go.
My band director pulled me into his office, and asked how bad I wanted to go. I was like "I tried to sell as many as I could."
Turned out, I'd done well. Like, 3rd place kind of well. He said anyone with that kind of determination deserved to go. But it wasn't him making it possible. It was Mr. & Mrs. D. Their two girls were going to the band trip and why shouldn't I? I'd worked hard. I cried. A lot. I do that you know.
Today. Mr. D is dead. And the world is a sadder place for it.
Thanks to Facebook, I've been getting back in touch with some of my old friends from marching band.
One of those friends is Jenn. She's doing well. Two boys, husband, somewhere in Florida.
Just found out her father was declared braindead from a surgery complication. Shouldn't have happened, but it did.
Her mom & dad were THEE SHIT. Some of the best band parents ever. At every game, every competition, chaperoned everything. Taught us songs we shouldn't have learned (Ya piss me off, fuckin' jerk! get on mah nerves! heh.)
My mom couldn't (or wouldn't, whatever) cover the cost of my Florida band trip. I sold a FUCK TON of poinsettas and wreaths (our fundraiser) and managed to bring my cost down, but couldn't cover the $300 leftover for the trip.
Much like a lot of things in my life, i resigned to the fact that I just couldn't go.
My band director pulled me into his office, and asked how bad I wanted to go. I was like "I tried to sell as many as I could."
Turned out, I'd done well. Like, 3rd place kind of well. He said anyone with that kind of determination deserved to go. But it wasn't him making it possible. It was Mr. & Mrs. D. Their two girls were going to the band trip and why shouldn't I? I'd worked hard. I cried. A lot. I do that you know.
Today. Mr. D is dead. And the world is a sadder place for it.
