Appreciate the rare moments in life

There is a photograph on the desktop of my office computer that captures the East Meadow High School Marching Band in mid-step. It was taken in October at the Columbus Day parade just hours before the band learned it had won first place, the tenth first place win for the school since it started competing in this New York tradition.

My 16-year-old son, a sophomore, is in the center of the photo in full uniform clutching his clarinet. He ended up in the center by chance after switching positions with a junior and, as he explained to his clueless mom, because a band relies on the strongest players on the ends while centers help keep everyone in step.

I have had two students play their way through marching band, but it is my son that seems to be moved by the events the most. He was very clear about staying with music as an elective since entering high school after learning to play his instrument in the summer before fourth grade.

To give you an understanding on the way my children think, my daughter picked the clarinet because it reminded her of the recorder. My son picked the clarinet because his section could be seen more clearly when seated at concerts.

When we talk, this youngster’s simple ideas described what I have come to call “the poetry of the world.” For example, the evening rehearsal on the high school grounds a few nights before Columbus Day entailed marching under a starry night sky while the sounds radiated for what seemed like miles and little kids played pee-wee football off to the side. It’s as close to “Friday Night Lights” as this Long Island town gets.

“I know I’m one of two hundred kids, but even so, it feels as if I’m one of the lucky few who ever gets to experience a moment like this,” my son said.

“Hold it in your hand,” I told him, using the metaphor I have used to recognize his accomplishments since he was very little. “It’s a feeling that you have earned and no one can take it away from you.” Then, a few days later, he was walking along Fifth Avenue in the heart of New York City, proudly marching and playing in tune.

“There was a moment when we were setting ourselves up before the parade began,” he explained. “We got the command from our band leader to get our attention; ‘band ten-hut.’ We then shouted out ‘huh’ and everyone around us went silent. Our ‘huh’ echoed off the buildings. I’ll never forget it.”  He said this with conviction. I can almost hear him recalling it again, maybe with his grandkids. 

It’s the poetry of the world, and when everyone talks of grace and gratefulness, I can’t help but appreciate knowing a young man not only saw a once-in-a-lifetime moment, but more importantly, will remember for years to come.