Life and MCM

Recently, a short clip of a performance I was in was found on YouTube. This got me to thinking…

Everything I needed to know I learned in…(not Kindergarten but…) the Morris County Militia.

There is a famous poem written by some equally famous guy, whose name I can’t remember, which says that all the important facts of life he needed to be a success were learned in Kindergarten. Well that’s great I suppose, and it probably is a good illustration of how the behaviors of most adults can be boiled down to examples of childish five year olds. Kindergarten however is a very short nine months of one year. I would argue that the nine years I spend in a competition level Fife and Drum Corps contributed much more than my first year of public school. “Of course,” you say – but, hey, I had to start this somewhere.

Rule #1: Success will mean that you will have to leave friends behind.

(Caution lots of personal history in this section)

In February of 1972, I walked home from school to a friend’s house. While we were having the requisite milk and cookies in the kitchen, I noticed an odd musical instrument on the counter. How did I know it was a musical instrument? Well, it looked a lot like toy “flutes” I had seen except there was no end hole to blow in. I asked my friend what it was…she said, “That’s a fife.” Oh? Can you play it? She did. Not really great, but we’re talking second grade here. She told me about a group of kids who met in a local church hall and learned to play this thing. Did I want to come? Sure! An activity! Uh, oh…was it expensive? No, she said. Dues are a quarter a week and they give you the fife.

I have to be honest and say that I don’t remember how I convinced my mom to drive me to this meeting. I don’t remember her calling the friend’s mom to ask about safety, or cost, or anything at all. I just remember her driving me to St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, dropping me off and saying she’d be back to pick me up later. I think I probably found my friend and followed her into the church hall. Wow – look, lots of kids I go to school with are here! How come I never heard of this? I obviously must live in the wrong neighborhood. I do remember that I was nervous the whole night about only being 8. Somewhere along the line someone said that you had to be 9 to join. I wasn’t going to be nine for another 2 months. Would they let me in???

The fifers were almost exclusively girls. Drummers were usually boys. This is just the way it was. It’s 1972, and gender roles in suburban New Jersey are still pretty conservative. No problem for me, I was way too small to play a drum anyway. No way could I carry the thing even if I wanted to. The fifers were set up in the hall with about 5 tables. There were 6 to 8 girls at each table and one instructor for each table. I remember two old (keep in mind that I’m 8 here) men and a few older teens who were the instructors. The tables served to group fifers in to learning groups. If you were at the back of the room you were in the lowest group. You probably didn’t know how to play and couldn’t read music. I was issued my first fife…engraved with “A51” on the end. What was that supposed to mean? I found out later that a bunch of black Bakelite plastic fifes all look the same if they’re left on chairs or tables and having that identifying mark was very important. What did the A mean? Maybe fifes are an A instrument. I’m not sure and it never really mattered. I just had to remember that I was number A51.

I really nice teenage girl was the teacher at my first table. She showed me how to hold the fife and told me not to worry about the fingers yet. Blow across the hole like you would a coke bottle, she said. Ok, I can do that. Do it all the time when the babysitter lets us have cokes on Friday nights when my parents are out. I spent the first night doing that – just trying to make a sound. At the end of the night, for about ½ an hour, they had us line up. Fifes in rows of four – gosh there were a lot of rows, maybe 8? I was put in the very back. The instructor told me just copy what everyone else does and don’t try to play. Just hold up the fife like everyone else. Wish she would have told me you start with your left leg. They ran through 6 songs and then sat down to hear announcements. The 25 cents was collected. Was I in? Wait a minute, I’m only 8. Nobody said anything. I didn’t volunteer information. My friend said to come back next Wednesday. Practice is every Wednesday at 7. My mom just started bringing me. I guess I was in….

I don’t know why, but I was really eager to learn how to do this. I would pick up the fife and play around with whatever I could do at the moment and found that over the next few months, I moved from table to table and was eventually placed ahead of my friend at Mr. Chiodo’s table. Head table. First and Second ranks. I don’t remember how long this took, but I do remember that I felt that she resented this in some way. We were never the same type of friends again. She later dropped out of MCM and eventually moved away from town. There were playground conflicts at school after I passed over her table to a higher one. MCM had become my place of success. I was able to get through the teasing, and childhood harassments of grade school because I was doing well at Fife and Drum Corps. There, doing your job (however it was defined) was rewarded. Even if you didn’t socialize with your corps members outside practice or performance…they had to respect your ability – as it was. If you did well enough to end up in the front rank…well, that was determined by how hard you practiced, and if you could “cut the mustard.” This was probably because if my next point, that the adults in charge made sure that no one suffered too terribly.

Thanks here to Mr. Hamm, who taught me the beginnings of how to read music. Reading music is like a foreign language. It takes time to learn, but can be very important down the road. Mr. Hamm’s table was the 3rd or so table on the way up the ladder. Honestly, he was kind of an odd guy but he did a great service by donating time to teach kids how to read music. I learned a skill for free that many have to pay for private music lessons to learn. And when I say free, you have look at that one little quarter we paid each week as a token of belonging. It surely didn’t pay for much.

Rule #2: Hierarchies are real world.

Once you’ve put in the effort to join a Fife and Drum Corps, and you’ve invested enough time to actually learn to play a little, you start to figure out that there’s a definite hierarchy. Really, this is very important, because real life will be like this. If you’re new, you’re not going to step in and be in the front rank. If you can’t play, you won’t be able to hide it for long. If you’re out of step, you’re going to get noticed for all the wrong reasons.

Morris County Militia didn’t have drum sergeants or fife sergeants who were assigned that position. There was a basic sort of seniority thing going on where the older kids helped the younger ones. The better players helped the lesser ones. Only the drum major and the color guard captain were identifiable. Those two positions were highly responsible and appointed by the director (as far as I could tell). There wasn’t any type of try-out. I also don’t have much knowledge of color guard, since I didn’t “hang” with them. They had different jobs and different things to learn. I sometimes wonder if people ever expressed a desire to be the drum major? How would that conversation go? "Hey, Mr. Flynn, I’d really like to be the drum major." I can’t imagine that. It’s just one of those things that happened. In the larger context of things, it didn’t matter, because I liked playing. I never wanted to be the drum major.

Within these sorts of performance based activities, there were the little hierarchies of seniority which really worked very well when there weren’t enough instructors to go around. What was really cool, was that the older kids looked out for the younger ones. Even if they wouldn’t have wanted to socialize with them outside of MCM, while they were with the group, everyone was treated like family. You might think your little brother is a complete screw up, and you wish he would go away…you might even razz on him quite a bit, but you wouldn’t let anything happen to him while you were on a trip. Between the older kids and the parent volunteers there was a definite atmosphere of guidance from afar. Most little things were decided among the kids without much adult involvement. I think though, that the major adult figures in the corps were very much aware of what was going on and making very astute decisions on when to step in. In this way kids felt that they were solving they’re own problems, with a safety net nearby. If you just couldn’t fit in, then you probably didn’t belong there. If you cared enough and wanted to be part of the group, you’d make changes in behavior to be accepted.

Rule #3: Don’t be late – EVER

This is really more about embarrassing yourself. So there should also be a sub title here that says, “Don’t forget anything – EVER.” When you’re part of a larger group – and we are all part of larger groups in the real world whether we like it or not – you can’t let your situation drag the group down. You also can’t think that you are more important than the group as a whole.

In the world of MCM there was nothing worse than being late. If the bus leaves at 4am, you better be on it. The funny thing is that I remember tracking down late people quite often. In fact, I remember being hustled out of my own house for a muster in Connecticut at about 4am by Mrs. Flynn. I also remember the intense embarrassment of boarding a completely full bus… not a seat left, and knowing I was the reason the bus was not moving. That sort of thing usually only happened once for someone.

When it came to keeping track of stuff, no one did this for us. Everyone down to the youngest person was in charge of their own stuff. If you screwed up, and didn’t have part of your uniform, then you’d have to endure the yelling, and general wrath which would ensue. I’m glad my parents didn’t make any effort to keep my stuff in order. I learned really quickly that if you didn’t have your stuff in order, you wouldn’t last long in this outfit. That is to say that I don’t think anyone was ever “thrown out,” they just decided they couldn’t take it anymore.

What difference does this make? It is part of learning that a certain part of your life will be lived as part of the collective. Sure, we all want to be individuals. Sure, “stick it to the man” is a great catch phrase. In reality, the “man” is necessary. A little chaos is fun, too much is destructive.

Rule #4: Nobody cares how hot, cold, or tired you are.

It’s hard to get excited about getting up at say 6am on a Saturday, knowing that by 10am it will be like 95 degrees in the shade, and that you will be wearing 4 layers of polyester clothing and a wig performing for a bunch of elderly tourists in South Jersey. That doesn’t matter when you have a larger idea of your responsibility to a group. When you’re a teenager, you’d probably much rather sleep in on a Saturday. However, when you belong to MCM you don’t have that luxury.

There are always trade offs. By belonging to a well polished and in demand Fife and Drum Corps, the miles of hot (or cold) parades, the frantic rush to get to the parade line followed by hours of boredom waiting for it to begin, and the countless days on a cramped bus were rewarded by the very intense but few moments of intense pride for a job well done. In order to arrive at that successful point in time an awful lot of less than exciting things had to occur.

For all four years of high school, I dedicated every Friday night to MCM practice. If I went out, would be after 9:30. Until I had my driver’s license, I don’t thing anything much beyond a slumber party was possible. Did I miss something? I might have, but I gained so much more. All those practices (and the almost nightly ones in the summer as well) added up to producing a superior product which opened up other possibilities. By the time I graduated high school, I could read music, I could play memorized music and perform a memorized marching drill at the same time, and I traveled more than most because I was good at it.

In the real world, there are weeks, and months, and years of endless chores. There are babies who won’t sleep, teenagers who won’t get up, and bosses who won’t listen. There are endless loads of laundry, and franks and beans every Friday. Why bother? You’re working for that day when your daughter plays “Sleigh Ride” in the top ranked symphonic orchestra, and it makes you cry.

Rule #5: It won’t last

This was the hardest lesson of all. In 1981, I graduated high school in June. I already knew where I was going to college, and it wasn’t going to be close enough to make MCM practices or jobs anymore. I was going to have to let it go. I didn’t realize how completely. In August, when we were informed that we were going to do our very last official job as MCM, I was shocked. There were probably rumors going around about it, but I had no idea. I was naïve that way. When I listen to the final show on the CD that was made from someone’s hand held tape recorder, I remember that I was barely able to play. I had tears in my eyes the whole time.

This served to cut a tie. Thanks to the other lessons, I packed up and moved away to school. I had been away from home. I had done my own laundry. I wasn’t scared to ride the subway. I got to class on time. I filled out all my paperwork and submitted things on time. I kept track of my stuff. I graduated.

I tackled other things with the same commitment I had for MCM. I received a first degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do in 2003. I also knew when it was time to move on. I enrolled in a Masters program for History in 2004. I’ll get my degree in 2009. Does that seem like a long time for an MA? Sure, but in the mean time, I’m keeping track of my stuff and doing all those things that no one notices until they aren’t done.

Seeing the clip made me think I might pick up the fife again. We’ll see, maybe I can try to teach Jenny or Alex.

Eeek! A Mouse!

Now, everyone will have to understand that there's no picture of this story. As you read, you'll see why...

First some background information:

1. About 15 years ago, when Nana and Grampy moved into their house in Merrimack, there was an incident with a mouse. It was fall, and the mouse decided that coming inside might be preferable to staying outside for the winter. It was noticed by Nana - with a characteristic, "OOH, OOH, I see a mouse!" The mouse was then corralled into the dining room with various family members placed strategically to keep it from escaping. What were we supposed to do??? Chase it toward one of us who had a cardboard box. I don't remember who that was - probably Grampy - and he was supposed to catch the mouse in the box so that it could then be removed from the house. Well much yelling and excitement ensued and despite 7 or 8 people all trying to catch the mouse, it escaped under a counter or somewhere to be caught later in a more conventional trap. What made this so very funny was watching these grown people try to catch the mouse. Everyone fell into a heap laughing, which then caused Nana to have to make a hasty retreat to the bathroom. Use your imagination - she's had 4 children, she's over 65, - you get the picture. If you know our family at all, you'll be laughing right now just picturing this to yourself.

2. When Alex was about 4, we were having a discussion on a Sunday night (we were probably at Nana's), about the roles we all play in the family. We asked Alex, "What do daddies do?" He answered with a very concise list of the duties necessary for fatherhood. Dads go to work, go to school (Gary was working on his Master's Degree), sit in their chair (ie.: Lazyboy recliner), and catch mice. The rodent control portion of this list was due to the same fall influx of field mice (see #1 above) who also found the Nashua house to be cozy. Every year we would have a few come in and try to take up residence in the dropped ceiling of the basement. Being the man that he is, Gary spent much effort at discouraging them, catching them (and making sure they were dead), and disposing of them. Since this task was surely not part of my realm, I always made sure to display my thankfulness that he was so good at this unpleasant job. Alex must have picked up on this and forever memorialized one of the true parts of male parenting. Men must catch mice.

Now for today's chapter about mice...

We all get up very early during the school year, since the kids have to be at school at 7:20 for their first class. I usually wake up first, and pop my head into the kids rooms to make sure they are at least thinking about getting up. I had done this and was sitting in my comfy chair in the family room with Zach. He was behaving very nicely and lying peacefully - which was surprising, because I hadn't fed him yet. If there's even one person up, he thinks it's time for breakfast.

All of a sudden, he jumped up and scrambled across the hardwood floor into the kitchen. At first I thought that he must be chasing a fly or a spider - because he does that all the time. Catches them sometimes too! This time though, he was very persistent about something under the kitchen table. I looked but couldn't see anything at first and thought he was just having a spell of idiocy. He does have a tendency to bark and get excited about stuff we can't see or hear. Very often he seems quite insane.

Closer inspection revealed that there was a tiny tiny mouse under the table, huddling close to the wall. Now it was my turn to say, "OOH OOH a mouse!" Zach was doing a good job of scaring it into not moving, and I was now trying to think of how I was going to catch this thing and get it out of the house by myself. All the commotion woke Alex up for good and he came into the kitchen understandably puzzled. We decided to see if we could catch the mouse in an upended plastic cup. Now here's where it gets funny.

Zach was watching from one end of the table, Alex was in the middle closest to the mouse, and I was at the other end with a broom. I didn't want to kill the thing, just shoo it back under the table to make it easier for Alex to catch it. Zach was definitely also doing his part by making sure the mouse wasn't going to get past him either. After two attempts, the mouse managed to make it past all of us and hide under Gary's chair. Alex then was able to catch it under the cup and take it outside.

Now this is potentially bad, because we have to find out where the mice are. We also have to guess that since this mouse was so tiny, that there must be a mommy and a daddy mouse around too...and probably lots of brothers and sisters who are not welcome guests. Most likely, they are wood mice or field mice who are anticipating the colder weather coming next week - but we will have to make a good examination this weekend to stop any more from coming in.

The good part is that Alex has now taken one more step towards manhood. He caught a mouse!

Labor Day, 2007

Here are the newly minted licensed boaters. We are especially proud of Alex, who passed his marine safety test with 100%. He was the only under-age person in the class of about eight. Gary and Alex attended four classes of two hours each, at the harbor patrol headquarters in DC. The instructor was suitably impressed, presenting Alex with a t-shirt, pin, and waterproof document box (it's what you keep the boat registration in) for getting only the second 100% score in the class. Who got the other perfect score??? Gary of course. Since Alex isn't 16 yet, he can't drive the boat by himself, but once he is...We don't anticipate that he would have the opportunity to drive the boat alone here in DC, since the marina is considerably far from our house. Even Jenny isn't interested in driving alone to the marina...since it's in southwest DC - and we all know that she's "directionally challenged."

On Saturday the 1st (Happy Birthday to my sisters by the way) we finally put the boat in the water, after last minute adjustments to the new engine. I also slowed things down by going to the grocery store too, but we did make it to Gravely Point by about 3 in the afternoon. It was quite a scene, since Gary's the only one with practical boat experience. I've not a clue about boats. We backed the trailer down the ramp...all's well until we unhook the boat from the trailer. We're (that's Gary too) all used to dealing with lakes, which don't have much of a current - or even waves most of the time. Here we are putting a boat into the Potomac River. Yeah, that's right a river. What do rivers have? Oh yeah, a current. If you don't start the boat, you don't just sort of float there while the person with the trailer goes and parks the car. You start to float away. So at this point Jenny and Alex are in the boat, I'm standing on the dock with no way to get to them and Gary's getting ready to drive the car and trailer to the parking area. They're floating away from the dock out towards the main river and Gary doesn't want anyone to start the engine (it's brand new and we're worried about how it will run anyway). Luckily, the kids are able to paddle and grab onto another boat. Thanks to the other friendly boaters, disaster is averted and we tie up so that we can test the engine. It starts wonderfully under Gary's watchful eye, and needs little tuning. The transmission will be the sticky point. In fact that's just the problem. This boat has always had a problem with shifting in and out of gear. It does go into gear, with a little difficulty, and we start to venture out to the main part of the river. Our luck is short-lived though. We can't power up, so Gary wants to anchor just outside of the channel to work on the problem. Easier said than done. We have no idea how deep it is (and we suspect it is very shallow). It is indeed too shallow, and we are floating downstream and too close to shore. Attempts at paddling are fruitless, and we finally must accept help from a local jet skier. He speaks no English, but is friendly and helpful. General shouts and hand signals ensue...and we manage to get back to the dock. This time we will use our 100 foot rope and try out the forward and reverse functions of the shifter while holding onto the rope.

Once we've adjusted and tested as much as we can, we venture out again. This time things work much better. We catch a nice view of the Washington Monument at dusk and visit our marina. The marina isn't open (because it's about 6:30 by now.) We've learned a few lessons but also want to do some more adjustments. In the end it's probably good we couldn't leave the boat at the marina after all.

On Sunday, the 2nd, the boat stayed in the driveway. Gary and Alex worked on it, Jenny went to a baseball game with Nick (Pretzel boy). I went shopping at the mall...okay peanut gallery - my close friends and relatives know that I'm usually way to busy to shop the mall very much. I did get a new pair of sneakers (to replace the ones with holes), and new lenses for a pair of glasses. My broken watch will have to wait until the repair guy is in during the week. I find out that my broken watch will be cheaper to fix than to buy a new one, which I'm actually happy about. Gary bought it for me a few years ago and I love it. I broke the stem on it so it won't set properly. It's a solar "eco-watch" which never needs winding or a battery. Perfect for me...just have to get the stem replaced though.

For Monday, we've planned to spend the whole day on the water. We're going to put the boat in at Gravely Point again, and try to leave the boat at the marina if we can. Launching goes much better this time, with ropes properly in place to keep drifting under control. The engine starts and runs well, and Gary's shifter adjustments make everything work much better. We determine that we will try to burn through a full tank of gas and see what we can. Mistake for today is that we don't have any charts or maps. We're relying on our knowledge of the land, and know not much about what's in the water. Lucky for us, Gary's good at guessing and has experience with rocks and other likely things which might be in our way. We watch the other boats on the river carefully and only go where they go. We figure that if boats the same size or bigger than us can go somewhere, so can we.

We go up river to Georgetown, and then back toward the marina. We stop at the marina (a pit stop is in order) and try to get them let us leave the boat there. They aren't fooled by our attempts to act like we don't know what we're supposed to do. Calls to the boat surveyor and the insurance company aren't fruitful since it is Labor Day you know. We'll just have to pull the boat out one more time at the end of the day.

Next we decide to try to go to Hoffmaster's on the Occoquan. We know that the Potomac and the Occoquan are connected before you get out to the Chesapeake, but we're not completely sure where we're going. We pass beautiful scenery and Mount Vernon on the Virginia side of the river.

Just south of Mount Vernon, we check the gas and realize that if we don't really know where we are going we will have to turn around so as to have enough gas to get back to where the trailer is. If we knew for sure how far Hoffmaster's was, we would go there and buy more gas. In the end, we've made a nice round trip, had a picnic lunch on the boat, got a little sunburned (hey, we're getting our vitamin D here!), and were home around 5:30 for a nice end of summer dinner. I had some corn on the cob, and we even got the dishes done in time for ice cream at Peterson's.

Why do we always leave the most fund day to be the last one of summer? Lucky for us the weather will stay warm enough to use the boat into October, and depending on how fast it gets cold, maybe even into November. That's one small advantage to the south....in New England we'd be done with boating by the end of September, mid October at the latest.

We'll get the boat survey and inspections done, get the insurance straightened out and have the boat at the marina on Saturday....I hope. Then we don't have to monkey around with the trailer each time. We just have to drive to James Creek, park, and go.

Don't worry neighbors, the boat won't be in the yard much longer!

PS: Last picture, of a large brick building on the water, is Fort McNair. It's right near the marina and used to be a Naval College. It's just a neat building I like. (MLC)

August 18, 2007 Day Trip to Lake Anna

Here are pictures of a trip we took to Lake Anna. Our hosts were Paul and Claire. Gary works with Claire at the Federal Railroad Administration (FRA) in Washington, DC. Paul is a military man, but he doesn't move around the country any more.



You'll notice that Jenny isn't in any of these pictures. She was either working or spending one of her remaining summer days with friends and opted not to come with us.

Lake Anna is about 90 minutes south, south west of where we live. Well, that would be without traffic. Unfortunately, since this weekend was one of the last before school started the traffic was really heavy. So heavy in fact that it took us close to 5 hours to cover what should have taken 90 minutes. Paul and Claire were good sports - Claire was afraid we would throw in the towel (so to speak) give up and go home. I convinced Gary that this was not an option, that it would be rude not to show up for dinner as planned. In the end we had a very nice day.

The lake was created as part of a reservoir project related to a nuclear power station nearby. There's never been any problem with the power plant, and lots of Washingtonians buy vacation homes on the lake. The water is warm, but that's mostly because the lake isn't too deep - more so than because of the power plant. Paul said that there is a "warm side" of the lake, but we didn't swim there.

We all jumped off the swim platform of Claire and Paul's boat and went for a dip near the Lake Anna state park, and Alex also got an opportunity to go for a jet ski ride after the motorboat jaunt. As it got dark we had a nice dinner on the deck of their house and then headed home. After all that sun and some good wine, I slept all the way back to Fairfax. The trip home was much more reasonable...just about the 90 minutes it should have been on the way there.

Claire invited us to come back with sleeping bags next time...I think we will.

1st Post

I've toyed with the idea for this blog for some time now and have finally taken the first step. While there won't be anything fascinating this time, tune in again for what may or not may interest you. I look forward to comments and stuff you might send my way.