"We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams"

A little wiser, a little sad
To see another season go
But knowing we'll always treasure the time
When together, we were the show.
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Those horrible, hot days of summer band camp. Rehearsing drill until your legs burn. Doing the show until you are positively sick of the band director saying "lets do it one more time," loading and unloading instrument, carrying flags and props on and off the field with the timing of a military offensive, day after day after day. Ice to relive bruises on wrists, foreheads, ankles. Swollen lips. Doing push-ups. Standing at attention for five more minutes than you can bear. Sunburn. Wanting to sell yoursoul for five more minutes of sleep. Flags in the face, rifles in the ribs. wanting to give it all up and join the chess club. Hearing the show music in your sleep. Sectionals. Heartburn, Heartbreak. Drumming on everything in sight. Tossing anything you pick up. Thinking marching band was a stupid way to get out of PE Running laps because someone else was late, again. Realizing colrguard looked a lot easier than it is. Doing mor push-ups. Wondering what happened to your life. Eating dinner in a car while changing and doing your homework. Lost shoes and lost mouth pieces. Blood Blisters on your palms. Long underwhere under your uniform and icy wind in your face. Learning the fine art of sleeping on a buss. Tears and teasing. Learning yo have 200 new brothers and sisters who stick by you through thick and thin. Know you have 300 new parents who will cheer for you, no matter what. Laughing with others and learning more about yourself than you ever though possible. Doing more push-ups. Thinking the show will never work. And then finally, it comes together and you have achieved perfection. Drumming you hands off, playing you brains out, and tossing higher that the sky. A slice of time in a stadium when everyone cheers and your mom cries and pictures get taken and once, just once, you have the world in you hands. And the band marches out of the stadium ad down the street, always together whether it's success or not, and you know by the feeling in your heart that it doesn't get any better than this. And you know that if your director asked you to turn around and "do it just one more time, a little better," you would.

A new customer walks into the new store on the block that sells brains. There are three glass cases, each containing a nice wet quivering grey brain. The first one says "Astrophysicist", and it costs $10. The second says "Avon Salesman" and costs $1000. The third says "Drummer" and costs $10,000. The customer is confused, and questions the salesperson. "I don't get it...why would I want a drummer's brain for $10,000 when I can get an astrophysicists' for $10?". The salesman replies, "Because it's never been used."