By Fred Steiner, one-time trombone player in the BHS marching band
There I was, minding my own business, on the goal line at Harmon Field on Friday night.
Suddenly the drum major ("field commander" is not in my vocabulary) blasted three of four times on the whistle. The next thing I knew I was marching out on the field with the BHS marching band.
It was my first venture on the field in 43 football seasons. That's so long ago that Elida, Ottawa-Glandorf and Bath were on the schedule the last time I looked.
It was spooky, too. The occasion was the BHS alumni band's second-ever performance. I missed last year's march because I was out of town.
So, when Rachael Lewis's invite came in August, I oiled my slide, tried a B flat scale and the next thing I knew it was Sept. 3.
Lots of things have changed since I came out of retirement four band uniforms ago.
The biggest change is the National Anthem. I can play it in my sleep. But I didn't realize today's band version was revised by Dave Sycks. I don't know his version. The second thing is that, quite honestly, I can't remember if you start marching with your left foot or your right. Seriously. I can't remember.
The third thing is that bands in the '60s did pinwheels. Those I can handle. But 32 counts of scampering from a block formation into a Block B is outside my musical realm.
The fourth thing is that because I wear bifocals I didn't attach my music to my lyre. I couldn't have read the music if I had to. However, my eyesight was keen enough to spot several of my '60s band peers in the stands who ought to have been on the field. If they don't join the band next year, I'll list them by name and instrument. For starters, I'm talking to you Jane Weaver.
The fifth thing is that Jo Souder wasn't on the sideline in her director's uniform. Neither was Jim Hahn or Harry Blausey, or Mrs. Brandyhoff. I miss seeing each of them.
Finally, and sadly, my embouchure ain't what it used to be. But the grass on Harmon Field feels the same as it did three scoreboards ago. The crowd is just as appreciative. And, yeah, I'll probably do it next year.
Maybe by that time I'll remember which foot to start marching with.
