Apr. 7, 2009 - Civilian in Blue
Warning - this blog is proof that I can pop off 2800 words without difficulty. This bodes well for me as I start studying again this summer!
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The next morning came early, but with places to go and things to do I found it surprisingly easy to get out of bed. Breakfast was being laid out for us in a conference room in the hotel, so at 8:00 we headed downstairs. It was a bit early for me to eat, but with a parade ahead I knew I needed something in my stomach. I had tea and a croissant, which is the perfect breakfast for a day like this one. Unfortunately the hot water was not hot enough to steep the tea properly, but I survived that small inconvenience.
Then it was back up to the room to iron our uniforms and get ready. The bus would leave at 10. We learned at breakfast that we would have to check out before the parade, and would be given just a few rooms for all 160 of us to change in afterwards, our luggage being stored in a storage room during the parade. This was rather inconvenient. And that is all I’m going to say about that.
At 10 we were loaded onto the busses and driven to the location of the parade. There was some uncertainty as to whether or not the band would actually play. The current temperature was 5 degrees below freezing, and it was not promising to warm up before noon. Instruments tend not to work very well at such temperatures, never mind un-gloved fingers. For some time I thought this weekend would forever be known as the “un-gig.” The bandmaster’s decision was to try playing when we arrived and if the instruments would play, so would we.
Weeks ago when I heard about this gig I volunteered immediately, without thinking. It is an automatic reaction: Hear of gig = volunteer for gig. I do this because I love to play and seldom is there a gig I do not want to do. Occasionally there are, but these are short and require, at most, an hour or two to prepare and a few minutes to an hour to play, and I believe it’s only right to play all the gigs, pleasant and unpleasant, since this is our job. It’s a little thing called commitment, and I take it seriously. On the other hand, I am usually all for a weekend away with my trumpet player, making these road trips even more appealing. So it came as quite a shock to me a few weeks ago when I realized that I really did not want to do this gig. Friday morning was busy (and I do not do busy well), requiring us to leave at noon which meant that we would not have the evening to relax, other than over dinner. Saturday’s parade promised to be long and cold. And I do not do cold.
“I do not want to do this parade,” I had admitted to my trumpet player, much to the shock of both of us. “It’ll be ok,” he assured me. “It’s April, and it’s in a city to the south.” I was not convinced. And in the end, he was not right. When he announced that he would be skipping the lovely dinner to shop I was not impressed. “I’m not shopping with you,” I informed him. “I didn’t expect you to,” he replied. I pouted, but he could not be convinced. So I went to supper without him and enjoyed good food and the company of friends. Still, this was one of the very rare parades I did not want to do, and I felt as I have only very rarely felt before with regard to band gigs: I was looking forward to being home again after it was all over.
But with only one other clarinet committed to the gig, I could not pull out, and I guess deep down I didn’t really want to. Band gigs are always an experience, whether good or bad, and I am always glad I went. This parade was no exception.
So off we went to where the parade would begin. Many of us had dressed in layers. I myself wore long johns under my summer weight uniform – the only uniform we civilians have. I wore two extra layers, including one terrifically non-regulation long sleeved t-shirt under my short sleeve uniform shirt, and the long sleeved, though summer weight, uniform. Still I shivered during the “stand still” part of the parade. But I was grateful for those extra layers!
We arrived and played our instruments. They played. So after waiting as long as we could inside the foyer of a nearby building, we headed up the street a block to where we were to form up. We were to lead the parade to City Hall where our Wing would be granted Freedom of the City.
We moved around as much as we could, trying to warm up as much as possible. We were all jealous of the bass drummer, who gets to wear the wolf skin. He was undoubtedly the warmest one of all, and afterwards his comment that his toes were cold…and his fingers…was met with an unsympathetic chorus of “Awwww.”
The bandmaster suggested that we warm up by playing Rock Around the Clock. I don’t know if he meant that literally, or in the sense of warming up our instruments, but I didn’t care. It was good to play, and I’m afraid I moved to the rhythm more than I normally would in parade uniform. The parade hadn’t started yet, so I think it was ok to be tapping my foot and bopping to the beat just a little bit. It did help take the edge off the cold, however I still discovered that open-hole keys dig into frozen flesh.
The parade began at 11:00. We led the troops down the city street to the tune of Colonel Bogey, one of my favourite marches. I had opted for a plastic reed on this occasion, not knowing how much I could depend on a wood reed in such cold. If the wood reed dries out, the clarinet gives no sound. However, I am not used to plastic reeds (I rarely use them because I don’t like the buzzy tone they produce) so I find them to be less than predictable in any conditions. I tried it before and decided that it would be good enough for the purpose, and possibly more reliable on that day than wood. After all, what kind of tone can one hope for under such frigid conditions! Thankfully it served me well, playing all but the introduction to Colonel Bogey and a few notes of Air Force March Past, which could be the fault of the decreasing temperature in my fingers rather than the reed. It did, however, have a tendency to slide around on my mouthpiece between playing – perhaps it was knocked by my uniform as I balanced my clarinet in one arm so I could warm my hands – requiring me to push it down into place before each piece. By the third time this happened I started checking before we were called to attention so it would be ready!
I had also decided at the very last minute to use my own clarinet, having taken both it and the wing’s clarinet on the trip. This is significant because I can’t make a plastic reed work on the wing clarinet. However, I won’t use my own instrument if it’s raining or snowing because of the potential for damage, but it plays much better than the borrowed instrument, so I use my own if I at all can. Further, the lyre needed for parades doesn’t fit properly on the wing’s clarinet. It interferes with some of the keys making some notes unreliable. At that week’s practice I tried it out in anticipation of the parade and found the high G to be completely non-existent. So I was pleased that the forecast, though cold, was without a chance of precipitation and I was able to use my own clarinet. Now as long as I didn’t drop it from my frozen fingers I’d be fine…
A funny thing happened on the way to City Hall. As I marched along, merrily playing my part, I felt as if I had stepped – almost stumbled – into a hole. That’s odd, I thought. But I could not look to see what I had stepped in. That was ok, though, because in a few steps I stumbled back out of the hole as the sidewalk rose again. Thankfully no one fell as we blindly marched over this rough city terrain, though one of the trombone players first nearly lost her mouthpiece and then had it rammed into her lip by the jolt.
The sun made its timely appearance just as we rounded the corner onto the street where the ceremony would take place, and it felt good. Thankfully we made it to the end of the route without major mishap, where we marked time until the rest were in position. We then did a counter march and headed back up the street to what would be our position during the parade.
As we marched I noticed the ranks in front of me spread slightly apart. Fortunately we were not playing at this time, so we could actually see where we were going. The reason they had spread was to go around the 2IC (Second In Command) standing behind one of the flights. We were marching behind the parade, or rather between them and the sidewalk, and there was just barely room for our three ranks to pass. At one point we passed behind a flight as they backed up into position. I was pleasantly surprised that no one collided.
Upon reaching our parade position we halted and waited for our next command to play. It was cold. There was a wind coming from the left, ripping into my left ear. Wind in my ears causes pain, I am sure my trumpet player would explain this as a problem with not having anything inside to keep it out.
No matter how you look at it, and even with the sun now shining happily upon us, the temperature was still below freezing, it was windy, and it was cold. As we stood “easy” (we were allowed to move slightly) we rubbed our hands together or pulled them inside our sleeves to keep warm. Some of the brass players put their mouth pieces in their pocket to keep them warm. I have always wondered if a brass player plays his instrument below freezing if his lips would freeze to the metal mouthpiece, but I guess they have enough hot air to prevent that…
So what does one do when standing on parade, in the cold, waiting for the next command to play? Well, on this occasion I had taken my small camera in my pocket. We have very few photos of us playing, so I had taken some before the parade just for fun. So as I was standing in the cold I began to think…I was sure I could very discreetly get my hand into my pants’ pocket and pull out my camera. If I held it in my hand down at arm’s length and just randomly pointed it in every direction… I had no idea what kind of pictures I would get, but I did get pictures! This may be evidence of the adverse affects of cold on the brain. (Shhh…don’t tell the bandmaster that I took pictures while on parade!)
During the parade we played The Duke of York, The Maple Leaf Forever, General Salute and Oh
As we began to march off the parade, the rest of the troops supposedly following behind us, a police officer ran alongside us to the bandmaster, to whom he whispered something. The bandmaster then turned to face us and gave the signal to mark time (march on the spot). We learned later that the rest of the parade could not keep up with the superior pace of the band and had been left about a block and a half behind us! I suppose we were more anxious to get off the parade to warmer climes than we realized!
The parade caught up to the band and we continued our march down the city street to where the busses awaited us. The highlight of the morning was when, as we reached the end of the parade route, the bandmaster, telling us how good we had sounded, said, “You brought out the sun!” That made me smile.
While the band members stowed their instruments underneath, I went immediately onto the bus to take my clarinet apart. One of the advantages of the smaller instruments is that I can carry mine on the bus. Soon the other band members joined me and we waited in warmth for the rest of the parade to stow their weapons and join us for the trip home.
Meanwhile, one of the trombone players saw Willy the Wolf at the back of the bus and decided he might be willing to warm our poor frozen fingers. Three of us huddled underneath his fur to warm up.
We returned to the hotel where we were served lunch of very yummy sandwiches. The hot water was still not hot enough for tea, but the food was good. The drummer happened to be eating a banana, giving us opportunity to complete our humour of the night before. There is an establishment near the hotel called “The Drum and Monkey.” We had lots of fun coming up with alternate, but similar, names that would be appropriate for our drummer. When he began to eat his banana a saxophone player and I exclaimed, “The Drumming Monkey!” and each snapped pictures, which he graciously posed for.
After lunch we were off to change. Many of us decided not to bother with the room the hotel made available to us, instead changing in the main floor washrooms. Much to the shock of several of the females among us (thankfully not myself) many of the men decided to change in the storage room where we all had to retrieve our luggage.
Back in civvies we boarded the busses, we five again in our van, and headed north. A stop at one of my least favourite coffee shops supplied me with a much-needed hot cup of tea. My trumpet player drove much of the way home, but whether in the front or the back of the van we talked the whole way home. I love trips that afford no distractions and we often have our best conversations in moving vehicles. Having no children with us also helped facilitate our discussion. And for awhile the trombone player chatted with us as well, which added much enjoyment to the trip. We stopped for supper at
The trip was all I expected and more. It was colder than I anticipated. It was just as busy. But the company of good friends made the trip enjoyable, and the adversity we played through made the stories that much richer. The purpose of the parade was not lost on any of us as we lent music to this honourable occasion. It is always a privilege to march in our nation’s air force uniform. As a civilian this is meaningful for me as I have always supported our National Defence and am married to an officer of the Air Force. So often we take for granted that we live in freedom because of our dedicated group of military personnel, and playing in the band gives me the opportunity to support them in a tangible way. As I marched and as I played, even as my fingers reminded me of the bitter cold, I was glad I had come. The media describing the event said the city streets were awash with blue. On that day I was a civilian in blue, privileged to lend my support by being part of this significant event.
