I’ve recently discovered Google Alerts. All I did was spend three minutes teaching it my name, the name of my blog, and the phrases ”˜marching band’ and ”˜synesthesia’ and ”” poof ”” every day, like magic, something new and wonderful pops into my email inbox.
First, let me just say how ridiculously thrilling it is to read other blogs where people refer to you in complimentary ways. Ridiculously. Thrilling.
Second, it’s also thrilling when I know I can provide help to some other blogger.
Case in point …I was alerted to a blog written by an 18-year-old former marching band student. He attended the Penang Free School which my extraordinarily mad detective skillz, ie, Wikipedia, found to be located in Malaysia. It’s been in continuous operation since 1816 and many famous people went there. Here are three that jumped out at me:
• Tunku Abdul Rahman, First Prime Minister and founding father of Malaysia.
• Tun Dr. Lim Chong Eu, second Chief Minister of Penang.
• Dato’ Eddy Choong, former All-England Badminton champion.
This young man’s blog linked to the PFS band blog which has a ton of fun photos.
It also has a YouTube video of one of their competitions that I just loved so I’m posting it here for your viewing pleasure. Watch for fantastic, crowd-pleasing drum major stick tosses. And notice … no percussion pit.
It’s nice to know “woohoo” means exactly the same thing on every continent. (Well, maybe not Antarctica.) It kinda makes me feel like I speak a second language.
And the band experience translates as well. This is what he says:
In the band, you push yourself worse than military cadets. Ironically, you love doing it! Pushing yourself further when you are dead tired, telling yourself to force that note out despite your breathlessness. You do push because that very passion in you pumps you further. You know that you will enjoy the ecstasy of the note you play although there is no room for thought in your mind for the suffocation is oppressing your brain to dead stop. Still, the satisfaction of a good show, especially in a competition will not only make you feel good, but it is very, very possible to reduce you to tears once you hear the audience cheer endlessly for your band. Tears not of joy, nor of pain. But tears of being extremely proud of being a member of the PFS Band. That feeling, my friends, cannot be matched even by flooding your system with endorphin!
But here’s the cry for help. This young man is asking for help in naming his saxophone. So, everybody …. Hop over there and give him some ideas.
“Becky” would be a lovely name for a saxophone, don’t you think?