Musician's Widow

In nine days, I will be attending my 10 Year Class Reunion. In these days, I will take the opportunity to look back on ten of my favorite elements of high school (in no particular order of importance)…

#9 – Colorguard & Band

Setting up for band photo -- 1998

I still clearly remember going to pep rallies in elementary school and staring at the girls with the flags with great big hearts in my eyes. I was going to be a flag girl some day. I had to be. This was an important endeavor in my life. It was the be-all, end-all.

To be a member of the Flag Corp (or Colorguard as we came to refer to it later), you had to be a member of band. So when the decision came in fifth grade to be in band or not, the answer was a no-brainer. Yes! Yes! Yes!

I ended up playing flute in band. Throw out your best “American Pie” joke here, if you must, but, I played flute and low and behold I was dang good at it! My freshman year of high school, I quickly advanced into the top few chairs of the flute section. In fact at the end of the year, I sat second chair below a graduating senior. I was poised to become section leader, but my dream remained to be a flag.

Finally eligible to try out, I still remember the day that flag pole first landed in my hands. It was quickly discovered I had a natural talent for it! Nonetheless, I practiced and practiced. Few things had ever been this important to me.

It was quickly assumed I was a shoo-in, and I was on cloud nine. I was so close I could taste it. I was practically already being measured for my new uniform.

Friends hanging out in the band hall -- 1996

Tryout day came. I was in one of the last groups to go in to try out. I was a total basket-case. Fundamentals were simple and I nailed those. Then we had to perform a routine.

I still remember the routine was to, “What’s Going On” by 4 Non Blondes. The music started. No one has ever crashed and burned as spectacularly as I did. The routine I could do in my sleep became this huge impossible task to my arms. My timing was off. My mind could not get the next part right. There was no saving myself. I walked out defeated.

I obviously didn’t make the squad that year.

I was, in a word, heartbroken. In my mind, my whole life hinged on becoming a flag. I had talked to my mom at length about how important it was to happen for me. I really could not comprehend NOT being a flag… and yet here I was a sophomore and not a flag.

My talents playing flute quickly threw me into playing piccolo. A whole new level of torture and complement all wrapped into one shrill, tiny instrument. I wasn’t a flag, and life went on nonetheless. I found successes elsewhere, but my heart still longed to accomplish that dream. Another year passed and try outs came back around.

Once again, my natural talent for performing, flag in hand, came out. This year, though, it wasn’t so life-and-death to become a flag. I went into it with a clearer head and a whole new level of confidence. I went in knowing I knew how to do this. I went in knowing I was good. I went in knowing the world would not end if for some reason I once again failed.

Performing with the Colorguard -- 1998

The day of try-outs I went home sick from school. (I later went to the doctor to learn I had a nasty case of the flu.) I came back to school that afternoon to try out nonetheless. I had a 100 degree temperature, and I still remember laying down in the hallway outside the gym in total misery. I was so sick, and yet I went into the gym, tried out with all my heart, and I made the squad ranked third in line from the top.

I was ecstatic, but also a lot more respectful of what it meant than I would have been had I gotten my dream the first time around. I took it a lot more seriously.

The next two years, I performed during football season as a member of the Colorguard, and I spent the second semester still playing my flute.

My senior year, our half-time show was “A Chorus Line” and the Colorguard did the high kicks. I still remember the night we did the full show at half time. I still remember it all coming together so perfectly. I still remember the standing ovation we received from the stands upon doing our high kicks. I still remember that rush. Its one of those feelings a person never forgets.

Band and Colorguard took up probably a solid half of my high school career. You can call me a band nerd, I don’t care. The experiences I had in that organization molded me into who I am more than most things ever did in my life.

Playing flute after a parade -- 1999

My failure to make flags my freshman year taught me the taste of defeat and to not put so much emphasis on some that arbitrary. But my determination to try again the next year showed me how to never give up on a dream.

My time spent as captain my senior year taught me elements of leadership that can be ugly but also rewarding. It taught me to stand up for myself and for the people who were depending on me. It taught me elements of being an adult that to this day I rely upon.

Playing music in band definitely taught me a lot about music and all its dynamics. I definitely have leaned upon those fundamentals since marrying a musician and music literally becoming my life. And the friendships I nurtured through my days in band are some of the friendships I still have today. The memories and laughter, the victories and the not-as-great-as-we-hopeds, the pride and disappointment. These are all memories and lessons that I cherish deeply.

In ten days, I will be attending my 10 Year Class Reunion. In these days, I will take the opportunity to look back on ten of my favorite elements of high school (in no particular order of importance)…

#10 – Yoe Pride

CH Yoe High School -- 2009

I attended C.H. Yoe High School in Cameron, Texas. Graduating class of 1999. One of my favorite things about high school was what we simply referred to as “Yoe Pride.”

Before I could even begin to try to explain the concept of Yoe Pride, I need to give a brief history of my high school.

Unlike most high schools, we weren’t named after our town. We were named after the benefactors whose love for Cameron and the children within it made the high school possible: Charles H. and Caroline Yoe. (For the full story of this couple, visit the Yoe Foundation web-site.)

After C.H. Yoe passed away, Caroline gave the money to buy the land and build the high school for Cameron, where they had made their home together for so many years. In 1921 it was dedicated and opened in the name of C.H. Yoe High School. Our mascot became a “Yoeman” — a medieval archer similar to the character of Robin Hood (a yeoman archer). The original building, built in 1921, still stands, and it’s where I had a vast majority of my classes between 1995 – 1999. In 2004 a new high school was built on the same land.

Since 1921, in May, Cameron ISD takes a school holiday — “Yoe Day” — to remember, thank and honor C.H. and Caroline Yoe. On that day, officers in organizations in the high school, and representatives of every class — from Seniors through Kindergarten enrolled in CISD — come together to hold a memorial ceremony to place flowers on the graves of C.H., Caroline and their daughter, Laura’s, graves.

I sincerely believe that it is in this memorial, this moment of respect for where our school came from, that Yoe Pride originates. We can claim it to be due to our football team or any academic success we many have. But in the end, our school would not be what it is (and was) if not for the love of one couple for a town almost one hundred years ago.

C.H. & Caroline Yoe

To me, school is not just about what you learn out of text books. High school, much like college, was more about the experiences that happened in those years. Organizational memberships. Successes. Failures. Projects. Time management. And the pride of school that teaches one to stand for something.

My four years in high school saw a lot of changes begin. I remember growing up the many traditions that sadly began to fade in my years of high school. They were still there just enough, though, that its those experiences that I cling to most as a memory I love of high school. Because I know that the people attending C.H. Yoe High School today will never understand or experience those things themselves.

One of those things I think about is simply having classes in old main Yoe. Yes, today, Yoe High is new and has far more technology and opportunity for education than we had when I was there. However, I cherish the fact that I got to acknowledge how many had walked those halls ahead of me. It gave me a hushed honor to be there myself. It made me want to make the ghosts of students past proud. It made me want to make the Yoes proud. Perhaps that sounds a little weird or strange, but I truly felt that deep down in my heart.

My dad attended Yoe High School. My aunts, my uncles, my brother. There was a history there that I loved. Football games. Pep Rallys. Snake dance. Open campus.  Flame Pep Rally. The rivalry against Rockdale — Battle of the Bell that crossed the Little River year after year. Band. UIL. Yoe Day. Field Day. Outstanding Student Picnic. All these things fell under one umbrella: Yoe Pride.

And I admit it.  I still have it strong today. And I always will.

“On Yoe High”

Praise to our school we sing,
Each his loyal honor bring;
Together we the Yoemen stand
To spread our praise through all the land.
To represent as best we can, in all our competition,
And our hopes, our pride, our love compound in you,
Dear School

“On Yoe High” was written by former band director Francis Cox and Portia Kruse in 1942.

The rides have been torn down. The last funnel cake fried. No more roasted corn to be had.

Wilson County Fair - 2009

The Wilson County Fair has come and gone for another year. And I’m happy to say I got to attend this year.

Ever since I moved to the Nashville area, I’ve heard that the Wilson County Fair was something I absolutely had to go do. However, with a husband who plays county fairs all around the country, attending yet another county fair just for fun was pretty low on the list.

This year, though, it was announced that the Wilson County Fair was listed as one of the top 50 fairs in the country, and the urging to go grew too hard to ignore. So one night last week, my husband and I packed it up and went to the fair.

And I am SO happy we did!

Our visit to the fair really made me feel like I’d taken a step back in time to when entertainment didn’t revolve around video games and the Internet. We decided to be kids again, and we made a meal out of carny food. The smell of the food and the lights of the rides were sensory overload. We sprung for a ride on the large Farris Wheel that turned over head all night and upon reaching the top didn’t know which was to look first as the fair seemed to spread forever below.

There was a petting zoo. A walk through an old town. Monkeys riding dogs. And most importantly: families out having fun together.

Just when I start to lose a little faith in our world thanks to the constant stream of bad news coming from all around, I have an experience like the fair that brings that faith back. Moms and dads with kids of all ages were scattered all around the fair bringing a smile to my face. I walked through the fairway holding hands with my husband, and it was like being on an old fashioned date.

We left that night more relaxed than we could have ever asked to be. My legs were like goo from walking so much, and my stomach gave a little grumble at the junk food we’d eaten. We rode home with the windows open in complete content silence, marveling in the wonder night we’d had.

You’re never too old for a night out at the county fair, and I do highly recommend catching your local fair when the opportunity arises. Leave the stresses of work and society behind and go be a kid again. It’s wonderful therapy for the mind and the soul.

My Flickr Set of Fair Photos

I joked tonight that I’ve lived in Nashville too long when a movie being filmed outside my place of work annoyed me instead of leaving me excited. I say that about running into singers, actors, etc. as well because on a whole I really have just come to take it in stride. (Though I have to confess, George Strait made me totally freeze up and start stuttering and lose a great opportunity to possibly meet him, but some day maybe the chance will return. Doubtful. But maybe.)

I do think the whole Hollywood thing is pretty exciting. And there is a true mystique and fascination that exists around the whole TV and movie making process. I admit to getting wrapped up in it on occasion myself. Getting to participate in making the new Lee Ann Womack video was pretty incredible.

But twice in my life, Hollywood has made me throw my hands up in the air and want to scream in frustration.

My first Hollywood experience was actually in little ol’ Marlin , Texas, in 2005 when they used the Falls County Courthouse to film a lot of scenes for the movie Infamous whose cast included Sandra Bullock and Sigourney Weaver. I was working at the town’s newspaper at that time, and of course this was the biggest news to hit Marlin in probably almost 20 years. (Well, the biggest bit of positive news.)

They filmed inside the courthouse and outside the courthouse. For exterior scenes, they put out a call for classic cars to line the streets around the courthouse. To be honest, the cars got me more excited than the stars, but then that’s just how I roll.

Dawg.

Whatever.

On the afternoon that they filmed some of the exterior scenes, I went out to try to get a few photos for the next week’s issue. I was careful to stay OUT of the way, but before long I was sniffed out and scolded to not take any photos due to the need to keep things about the movie confidential. I could respect that fact up to a couple points. One point was the fact that Marlin is a small town that I doubt any entertainment reporters would be picking up our paper to sniff for things about the movie. The other point was the one in which they started to impede my ability to do MY job.

It took awhile, but I did finally get them to leave me alone enough to take pictures of the cars all around the square. One gentleman offered to let me sit in his car and watch from afar, which I gladly accepted as at that point I had to crouch down behind all these cars to stay out of view.

Eventually, the movie was done filming. We ran the photo I took of the cars in the paper. And life moved on…

I never did see the movie. It’s in my Amazon.com wishlist in case anyone cares to buy it for me.

Fast forward four years, and I had my second Hollywood experience. This time, Nashville, TN. Printer’s Alley. My job? Working in one of the bars in the Alley. The filming is going on in the bar next to the one at which I work, but it somewhat disrupts things in the whole Alley.

Now, understand, when I heard days ago about a movie being filmed in the Alley, I got excited about how much great PR this could mean for it. Perhaps seeing our Alley in a movie would bring visitors next year?

However, going into the night I was already in a bad mood, but it didn’t take long for the bad mood to sour further. I quickly felt like I couldn’t do my job properly lest I cause some sort of problem between “Quiet! Filming!” barks and worrying about how our band would be able to load in their gear. Ultimately, I wanted to do my job, while they did theirs, but struggled with how to do just that.

Again.

And I have to admit. That frustrated me. I believe my exact phrase was “Pain in the a–, huh?” to my husband as he pulled in to unload his gear to play.

I often get this exact same frustration from tourists who seem to forget that while Nashville is a tourism-centric city, it’s also home to many people. We’re happy to have you here. But please don’t stop us from living our lives; doing our jobs.

Chances are tomorrow night I’ll have my third experience, as apparently filming will be again occurring in the Alley. I don’t know if that will go into the night and overlap with my time there. But, the chance is there. And I can’t say that it excites me.

Call it a pessimistic approach to the experience if you want.

Me? I call it an experienced approach to it.

Because that’s how I roll.

Dawg.

Whatever.

I like to eat. I like food. It’s not a comfort thing! Generally, if I am stressed, I DON’T eat. It’s when I am happy that I eat the most… which could explain why I gained about 15 pounds after getting married. I’m working on that, but the long and short of it is simply that I do like food.

Dinner is served...

I also really like to discover places in Nashville. New places. Old places. I just like to discover places in, and things about, my city.

So it goes to reason that on my Twitter feed, Taste Casting caught my attention. The discovery of new places to eat? Sampling menu items? Blogging about my experience? Brilliant!!

Without taking a moment to second guess it, I signed up. It wasn’t until later that I started to do the, “What if I don’t get along with the other bloggers?” or “Who am I kidding? I’m not foodie.” and “Will this work with my schedule?”

Those questions were silenced once again simply with the idea of good food, city exploration and blog fodder. It couldn’t be a bad thing at all.

Wednesday night, I attended a meet and greet with other bloggers who had signed up to be a part of Nashville’s Taste Casting team. My husband came along, and I really hope I can convince him to also become a member and this be something we enjoy together. But even if he declines, I can already tell — based on this first experience –  I’m going to thoroughly enjoy this new endeavor, the people I’m going to (and already have!) meet, and the things that I will learn.

Despite there being only four members of the group in attendance, myself included in that tally, I’m excited about the possibilities. It was very much like meeting three other kindred spirits. I feel like I can learn a lot from them, but in the same breath once again feel like I have found a place that I fit. The friends and business contacts that can be made are exciting. The new places to discover make me curious. The food to be tasted makes me hungry. The job to get done gives me determination.

The Taste Casters :: Me, Kim, Debbi (our leader!), and Jessica

What is Taste Casting, you  might ask?

Taste Casting is a group of people — bloggers, twitter users, Facebook addicts, all of the above — who come together to visit restaurants we are invited to review.  Upon an invitation to review a restaurant (or a bakery or a coffee shop… any type of food service establishment) a group will meet on a specific night and time to have a meal provided by the restaurant. At that time, the members will have an opportunity to critique and ask questions — not only about the food, but also about the ambiance, the service, the menu… everything! Photography, video, and Twitter and blog posts are to be made to help promote this new business. Consider it a whole other avenue of advertising for the establishment as well as a wonderful networking opportunity for the social network members.

As I’ve said before, I’m excited for this, and we are have room for more members in our Nashville Taste Casters group. Just visit Taste Casting, take a look around, and if you’re in Nashville and interested… join! Or if you own an eating establishment and would like to have us review your business, Request A Tasting!

It’s all about food and social media. Sounds like a positive combination to me!

If I had time and ability to write a blog entry every time one came to me, this blog would be updated about five times a day versus once a week at best. This realization truly frustrates me and makes me realize that I need to MAKE time to write more often.

Time is money they say.

Words are cheap others say.

These opposing ideals are what seem to be holding me back. And this must change.

Recent topic ideas: new discoveries in my city (I finally visiting the Bluebird Cafe and fell in love with it just as I feared I would), family coming to visit (my brother will never know how much it meant to me to have him and his family come up this summer), roots and wings, and anniversaries of important events.

Perhaps I will go back and revisit some of these topics at another time. But for tonight, I lament the fact that I’ve let these words expire as time flew past. And I realize once again that the dreams I dream mean I need to marry those two old cliches.

Time is money. Words take time. And in my case. Words are money. And every word I write. Every sentence I compose. They all lead me down the path to my dreams of writing for a living.