"C" is NOT for Cat -- Authors Whose Last Names Begin with C

I let my dog pick out books. Polo can’t actually read them, so I limit his search options to things we can download and listen to together. We're working our way slowly through the alphabet of authors, one letter at a time. Sometimes we listen to mysteries or realistic fiction, sometimes history or psychology or biography. We listen when we're relaxing, while we're cooking, when we're sewing or doing housework. Okay, actually, Polo doesn't cook or sew or do housework, but he's a pro at relaxing and listening to books with me. And then we do this little report to share our thoughts, one author-letter at a time. 

Monsters

I love football, although my one-word summary of this story is "profane" -- both in the sense of the language quoted in interviews and as a description of the game itself. Football is just now (maybe) beginning to get a little cleaner, a little less punishing in terms of players' lifetime health. This book replays the long history of football, from company and town teams to the NFL as we know it today. George Halas, longtime owner of the Chicago Bears, was the first coach to use an "eye in the sky" by having an assistant way up in the stands who could observe formations and send notes down to the field. In the 1980s, animosity between head coach Mike Ditka and defensive coordinator Buddy Ryan was legendary, yet together they led the team to win the 1986 Super Bowl. It was fun to hear about many players that I watched back then. They were hard-working athletes, if not the best role models. (Also available as a book.)

Polo's response: I like it when my humans watch football, because it keeps them at home with me. But it's bad when the Seahawks score, because there are very loud fireworks.

The Crow Trap

Detective Chief Inspector Vera Stanhope is a British version of Columbo, all messy and scattered and sly as a fox. It wasn't until we were halfway through this book that I realized that the BBC's Vera television series originated here. This particular novel involves three women taking an environmental inventory of a large plot of land slated for industrial development. Before they even arrive, there is a suicide. Then, as they're busily counting plants and mammals and birds, and maybe having a secret affair with a man from town, there's a murder -- and then another murder. Complex characters, tangled lives, scenic countryside, and a gripping story!  (Also available as an eBook, audiobook CD, or book.)

Polo gives this one two paws up. He dreams of running over hill and dale, looking for birds and otters.

The Orchardist

Wenatchee's apple country provides a beautiful, inspiring setting for this piece of historical fiction and the reader does a masterful job of taking you right into the orchard, the barn, the simple farmhouse. Life there has sharp edges, rocky ground, difficult relationships. From the mother who vanished, to young mothers-to-be who appear from out of nowhere, Talmadge is the lone constant with the fruit and the garden and the house. A hard story and beautiful at the same time, like the time and land in which it's set. (Other formats include eBook, audiobook CD, book, or pre-loaded audiobook.)

Polo's pause: Good men -- both the reader and the main character. This was a story I could really sink my teeth into.

The Invisible Gorilla

So, you think you're pretty smart? Especially observant? With an above-average memory? Then don't read this book. The authors devised a social experiment in the form of a video, instructing viewers to count the number of times a basketball was passed from one person to another. There was just enough distracting action in the scene that counting those passes took effort. But in the middle of the basketball activity, an actor in a gorilla suit walked in, pounded its chest, and walked off. Most people did not notice the gorilla. At all. Even though they were working hard to give full attention to the video, they missed seeing something big and unexpected -- because it was totally unexpected. This is just one example of a typical illusion of our abilities, and the whole book gives very interesting insight on basic human nature. (You may choose to read the book or eBook.)

Polo, being a dog, admits no "blind spots" of inattention or perception. [Note from Katharine: I won't mention the times I've seen rabbits along the trail, and he was busy looking up at squirrels in the tree. Please don't tell him I told you.]

"B" Authors -- Give This Dog a Bone!

My dog, Polo, has been at work picking out audiobooks again. It works best to limit his choices to certain author names so he doesn't chase all over the alphabet. After all, I have a short attention span and might not remember which authors we've already sampled.

The Windfall

Mr. and Mrs. Jha have lived with adequate comfort in their East Delhi home, but everything must change when Mr. Jha sells a website and they come into sudden wealth. Nothing about their current situation is good enough -- so he rushes to buy a big house in the best neighborhood, fill it with amazing new furniture, park a fancy car in the garage, and impress his potential new friends. 

Polo's favorite scene: There is a certain painting activity that is both hilarious and horribly embarrassing. Also, Polo dreams about being the Jha's family dog and living in the (literal) lap of luxury.

Once We Were Brothers

A modern-day court drama requires a detailed exploration of the past in this historical novel with a mystery. Two boys grew up in Poland during World War II; one of them became a Nazi; the other had to hide. In present-day Chicago, one man is an elderly widower. But did that young Polish boy, who was forced to join the German army, become a well-known millionaire? Or is this all just the confused imagining of a lonely old man?

Polo's best feature: The narrator's use of different voices and slight accents makes the story easy to follow as it goes from the 1930s to the present.

The Throwback Special

I remember the play. It was Monday Night Football, 1985, Washington Redskins versus the New York Giants. Joe Theismann suffered an injury seen by millions of fans on live television. If you were a football fan, you remember it, too. That one play changed Joe's life, and the moment lives on in twenty-two men who get together every year to re-enact it (but without the actual injury). No matter how much -- or how little -- changes in their lives, these men have a standing commitment to meet every year. Just them, no girlfriends or wives or children or distractions, going through the motions in exact detail. The real story here isn't the football play, but the men's real lives and inner conversations.  

Polo's highlight: Playing ball on a grassy field with friends. What could be better?

MWF Seeking BFF

A real-life young married white female (MWF) moves to Chicago and misses her old best friends forever (BFFs). Needing someone to be able to call for spur-of-the-moment manicures or movie nights, Rachel Bertsche embarks on a year-long project to find new friends. Her goal is to have one friend-date per week, hoping that at least a few of her new contacts will lead to more friend-dates which will blossom into real friendships. The narrator's energy is contagious, and I felt myself wondering if I should try this experiment!

Polo's take: This is all complicated and ridiculous! If you want to make a friend, all you have to do is watch for friendly body language and ask them to scratch behind your ears. If they also give you a treat, you're true BFFs.

Are You Ready to RUMMMMBLLLLLLLE?

Welcome to our 20th season with the Chargers! The team I love because they wear my initials... and because the coaching staff is great, and they let me be on the sidelines instead of far away in the stands! My excitement for the first game is like a kid on Christmas Eve. It's here -- let's get started!

Thanks to the wonders of modern computing (I guess), the printed score books I'd used have become obsolete. A few years ago, I designed my own, drawing it on graph paper and getting it printed each season. This year, it seemed like time for a change, so I have been working on an Excel template instead. I still want to fill it out by hand -- if I entered the data directly onto my laptop, I'd be stuck way up in the stands. Where's the fun in that?

So, I printed a few sheets of the new form and looked for a recorded game to use for a test. The first one I found was an AFC Divisional Playoff between the Bills and the Browns. This was in 1989, recorded from television and posted on YouTube. No computerized markers to show line of scrimmage or first down, fewer replays, sideline camera angles -- a pretty good simulation of real life for tonight's high school game. I had forgotten Bernie Kosar's sideways stance under center. The commentators recounted Ron Middleton's highs and lows as his son was born 12 weeks premature and Ron was released and rehired a couple of times that year. I remembered a few names -- Jim Kelly, Pete Metzelaars, Thurman Thomas, Cornelius Bennett, Ozzie Newsome. In a promo for the next day's game, baby-faced Bob Costas and OJ Simpson were pictured. My, how the times change.

Ahhh... good nostalgia. But now I must make a few last adjustments to the score sheets and get them printed again. Sharpen the pencils, dig out the clipboard, it's time for FOOTBALL!

Oh, and if you'd like to share my little trip down memory lane, here's the link to that video. Enjoy!

Details, Details -- Who's Minding the Net?

I don't know much about football. However, for more than 25 years I've walked the sidelines of three high school varsity teams, doing their scorebooks. From that vantage point, I couldn't tell you if the guards were pulling or what kind of defensive coverage is being used. But I see things, and I hear things.

One of the long-time volunteers with my current team is responsible for all the equipment. Coach D oversees, in a most obsessive manner, everything from game balls to helmet straps to the coaches' audio gear. He's loud, intense, and sometimes obnoxious about it. But he's been there almost as long as me, so I guess he's glad to be there.

My hometown pro team [GO, HAWKS!] played an okay game this week, but I didn't get to view the absolutely spectacular end of this game until several days later. I watched the NFL.com play-by-play synopsis online while I was at work on Sunday and felt a little of the drama of that amazing comeback and win. [WE'RE GOING TO THE SUPERBOWL!!!] Even though I knew the outcome, I was amazed to see those final minutes unfold. Wow! Just, WOW!

As I watched the incredible plays by the Seahawks, and the mounting failures by the Packers, I noticed one striking detail. During Green Bay's final offensive drive at the end of the fourth quarter, the camera cut to their kicker, Mason Crosby, doing a few practice kicks on the sideline. The Packers were aiming for a touchdown, and they were moving the ball down the field pretty effectively, but Crosby knew he had to be ready just in case.

One thing about his preparations bothered me, though. The net into which he was kicking was half off of its frame. Twice in the highlight video, he tried to reattach it, to no avail.

Here's the net, hanging lopsidedly while he kicks into it...

And trying to tuck it back where it belongs again...

Crosby made his field goal, tying the game near the end of regulation. Great save! But... why was no one there to fix the practice net for him? Why wasn't there a Coach D running over to grumble and straighten things out? How can it be that no one -- apparently -- was standing by the kicker, the guy who could save the team from losing the NFC Championship? Where's the support?

The following passage says it well:

For even as the body is one and yet has many members, and all the members of the body, thought they are many, are one body, so also is Christ. For the body is not one member, but many.

If the physical body is the team, you know that all members of the team are important. Every player, every coach, every equipment manager plays a role that may prove vital to the outcome of the game. In spiritual terms, the body is the Church, the local or universal network of people who follow Christ. Each person has a role, a talent, a style, that contributes something unique to the whole. Some are visible, some are vocal, others are supportive background folks who see a need and quietly fill it. And some are obsessive, loud, and intense, but they still provide necessary aid. They're the ones who might notice a problem with the net, and step in to set it right.

Green Bay could use their own Coach D, but they're going to have to look elsewhere. Our Coach D is just fine right here, wearing our green and gold. [Go Chargers!]

Homecoming Gowns, Nail-Biter Football, and Pink

Last night's homecoming game didn't exactly meet my expectations. Don't get me wrong -- the game itself was spectacular. The scoring went back and forth with long touchdown runs, time-eating drives, and a couple of surprises in the kicking game. It would have been so much nicer if we could've won, but it was fun.

In the fifteen years I've kept the scorebook for this school, homecoming has followed strict traditions. Lots of alumni and family show up, a few past members of the dance team participate in the original 1970's routine, and spiffy convertibles drive the homecoming court to the 50-yardline. They used to have fireworks at halftime, until one errant rocket almost toasted the crowd. Unfortunately, I had an extreme front row seat for that event. Sometimes there are streakers (or pseudo-streakers, wearing flesh-toned Spandex.) Homecoming is nice, if not always exciting.

When we got to the field last night, there was a bubbling geyser at the 20 yard line on the home side. Water was erupting from -- an irrigation pipe? There's no real grass within 100 feet of this field! Aha! Suddenly I realized that halftime was going to be something exciting! Maybe the homecoming court would perform a synchronized swimming routine, and the queen would be the one who was propelled out of the water in an aerial spectacular!

No. The grounds crew finally managed to stop the fountain before halftime. Darn. Good thing it wasn't cold enough to freeze.

There were more security officers at this football game than... lemme think... well, there were so many of them that they scared the streakers away. Darn.

On the other hand, the weather was good enough that the girls kept their gowns on through the whole second half. After the game, a few of them came down onto the track to console their boyfriends. Helmets and tulle. What a sight.

But the pink? The pink was very interesting. For the past few years, the football referees use a blue penalty flag for the first game in October. The blue symbolizes Prostate Cancer Awareness. Somehow, some way, it was decided to draw attention this week to breast cancer. The officials at our game were sporting spiffy pink whistles, and had pledged to donate their paychecks to breast cancer research. The only problem was, they hadn't exactly jumped through all the hoops to get this approved. As a result of this act of civil disobedience, they may be required to forfeit not only this paycheck but also could be banned from officiating a couple of playoff games. (You can read about it here.)

In support of Breast Cancer Awareness, and/or in support of the referees, our team was decked out in pink duct tape highlights. There's the pink.

Boy, I sure wish our team could've blocked that last-second field goal and won the game. It was a lot of fun, but it's more fun to win. Oh, well. It was, indeed, a lot of fun.

Football Time!

I thought you might enjoy this photo of me on the field at tonight's game. Isn't this a nice facility?

Mustering the Gumption to Catch Up

Hot dog! Here we are again, ready to tackle a bit of writing. There are several things worthy of some catchup, so let's take them one at a time.

Today, more football!

My new scorebook is working well, although it needs a few minor design changes. After Week 2, I realized that there should be a master column/row for turnovers. (We had seven that night. It was ugly.) I plan to use the book as is this year, but at the end of the season I'll make up next year's model and get it printed while it's fresh in my mind. Coach O likes it, and the Athletic Director said, "You're the one doing the work -- it should be whatever you want!" I appreciated those affirmations.

For the first game of the season, my brother was visiting from the Midwest and got to patrol the sidelines with me. What a treat it was to be able to show my bro what I've been doing for about 20 years! We had fun chatting a little and watching the game. It was his first time ever on a varsity sideline. Pretty cool when you get to give your big brother a new experience! (He's way older than me, so aside from teaching him how to give me a bottle when I was a baby, I haven't had opportunity to expose him to many new skills in life.)

Week 2 of our season was an away game, but still at our district's stadium. It feels a little bit different to be on the other side of the field, but it's hard for me to remember is which locker room the guys are using. Not that I've ever been inside, but I'm used to them heading for the north room instead of the visitor's room on the south. Oh, well. The big deal this game, aside from losing big time and committing seven turnovers, was that the National Anthem singer's microphone didn't work. The kids got quiet enough that we could hear a little of her, all the way across the field, with no amplification. Cool! Eventually the home fans joined her, and by the end of the song the whole stadium was singing. The kids were kind of goofy about it, but it was a nice gesture anyway.

Week 3, this past weekend, was marred by rain. As I've noted before, I hate rainy games because I have to move up under cover to keep the book dry. But it's not all bad. This time, I stood next to Mr. F, who knows all three of my sons and remembered me from junior high conferences. Wow! He's a very nice guy, too. In football news, this other team is being led by its seventh head coach in ten years. Sad, sad. How can they ever feel like a team when everything keeps changing? But enough about them. My experience Friday night was filled with rain. Here's the rain, and then a shot of my view of the game from up at the top of the stands.

 

The other good thing that happened because of the rain was that I found a couple more friends in the stands. Their daughter is now in the band, and their son is playing football in middle school. They could be around for several years! Cool -- someone else for me to say hi to and (if it rains again) people to sit with during the breaks.


Looking back over this post, it looks more like a report than a blog entry. Why do I care about high school football games? I love hearing the bands, I love the excitement of the games, I like the coaches and their wives, I love watching and listening to the players on the sidelines when no one else can hear them, and I get excited about everyone else's excitement. I'm not there to be noticed, and this is an activity that's definitely not about me. It's just fun, and I'm thankful to be allowed to be there.

Football! Football!! Football!!!

Bad news this week: Apparently no one in the Greater Puget Sound region has a football scorebook to sell.

Disclaimer: Okay, one store in Redmond had three books available. We drove up there to buy at least two of them, but stopped to look at the pages first. Uh, oh. These books might work well for college or professional ball, but high school football doesn't move fast enough to require one whole page per quarter. Since I do the offensive stats for both teams, that equals eight pages per game. Hey, it already takes me far too long to total everything up when each team is on one page!

Great news this week: Finally, after ten years of wishing, I took the plunge and designed my own scoresheet. Yay! Woo hoo! As with any standardized form, there were things on the old scorebooks that were great and things that I wanted to tweak. The form has to be easy for me to use, and also must be easy for the coaches to interpret later. I have no idea what Coach O will say when he sees my creation, but I'll do my best to butter him up when I drop the completed stats into our milk box tonight. (That's our routine -- I take the book home, tally up the numbers, my husband calls the media, and we leave the book in our milk delivery box so the coach can pick it up early the next morning. Very clandestine!)

Wish me luck with this endeavor. Coach O does not embrace change.

For your review, here's one of the old books and my new creation:

Walking and Looking

My phone isn't sending the photos I've taken on recent walks, so I'll just have to tell you about them. Sigh. The wonders of modern technology.

For two weeks now, I've been seeing new catkins on the trees. I thought it was too early for that, but there they are. The old ones are brown and shriveled and dead, but the new ones are a very light green and, well, new. Earlier this week, I saw buds starting to pop out on some of the bushes on the trail. Although I tried to get a photo of them, it was too dark in that part of the woods so my camera phone wasn't effective.

Today, the water in the wetlands has receded enough to reveal sprouts of skunk cabbage. I didn't know they start out reddish-brown and only turn bright green when they're up out of the ground. There were three pairs of ducks a-courting as Rufus and I sprinted along. One couple was quite close to the trail, and I was able to snap a quick photo of Mr. Mallard.

The wetlands looked quite different today, and it took me a while to figure out why. The tall grasses and reeds have stayed upright all winter, but now they're clumped on the ground. When the new shoots grow, they'll poke right up through the old dead stuff and the wetlands will look like green meadows. But what made the dead grasses collapse? Ahhh... Now I remember. About three weeks ago, the water level was almost up to the trail. Everything was covered. As the wetland drained, the weakened stalks were left laying on the ground. That's how the grasses get a fresh start, and that's how the scenery looks clean and green and pure.

I love fall and winter. I love quieter days, cooler temperatures, FOOTBALL, and the way that distance softens bare tree branches to look all heathery. I don't mind the rain and the damp and the interesting weather. But as I've been watching the wetlands change, I'm beginning to think I might enjoy this transformation to spring and green and brighter colors. There are good things about spring and summer. Maybe this year I can let myself enjoy those seasons more. I'm definitely loving these quiet walks with my dog friend.



And football starts in seven months.

Football and Prayer

Last night was the homecoming game. At this school, tradition is carried out in utter consistency from year to year. At least, that's what I've observed over 14 seasons. The princesses are driven in a parade of convertibles to the 50-yard line, where they are met by their parents and escorted past a JROTC honor guard and onto the field. After they've all been introduced, last year's queen is driven into view. She gets out of her car and walks out to crown the new homecoming queen. Hugs, hugs, tears, and back to the cars for the return trip to the side of the stadium.

The cars this year were beautiful, gorgeous, poetic 1957 Ford Thunderbirds. I drooled over them. Mint green, creamy yellow, white, black, red, and gunmetal gray. I swooned over them. The serious rain last night made the owners keep the lids on tight, but this was the way the cars were designed to look most of the time, right? I feasted my eyes on them.

No wayward fireworks, no streakers, no bad surprises in last night's festivities. Yay! I can't even recall any injuries on the field. It was a good night.

Except...

Late in the fourth quarter, at a quiet moment, I heard something bad. The crowd around me heard it, too, and there was a collective gasp. It appeared that a child had slipped on the wet steps. Dad scooped him/her up and ran for the exit. Despite the fall, this little one was not crying. Head injury? Loss of consciousness? A minute later, I began to notice people craning their necks toward the area where the ambulance always parks. My concentration for the game was blown. I'll spare you the details, but I was very concerned for that family. Eventually, the ambulance moved. Before the game was over. That meant... well, I can't be sure, but I've been praying for the child ever since. I am ever thankful for the availability of emergency medical assistance. Even though I'm still scared about that situation, I trust that the child received excellent help in whatever way necessary.

How to Knit... and watch football... but mostly, knit

Friday was a beautiful day for football, and the pace of the game allowed me to think about taking a few photos. For all you non-football readers out there, here are some pointers for paying attention without having to actually watch the whole game.

First, in early autumn, there may be some glorious sunsets shortly after kickoff. In our home stadium, the home crowd faces west and I've included a photo last year of the treetops against the night sky. This week's game was in another town, where it's the visitors who face west. There was a lovely sunset last night, and just after I took this shot the team doc came up to comment on the view. See, not everyone is watching every nanosecond of action on the field!

Speaking of the team doc (he's actually a physical therapist with a specialty in sports medicine), he didn't have to be too busy this week. Thank goodness. When an injury happens, the players show respect and the crowd gets quiet. If you look up from your knitting and see players on the sideline doing this, you might say something like, "Is it his knee?" Hopefully that's all it is, and in a few seconds he'll be helped off the field to a shower of applause. This would be a good time to refrain from other conversation, however.

Injuries can be scary, and for this reason it may be difficult for tender-hearted people to watch every crashing tackle. Knitting is a handy and productive distraction. You can also claim that you're too nervous about the outcome and it helps to keep your hands busy. That makes it sound like you're really into the game.

When a team is really close to scoring, way down at the end of the field, the orange down markers are not needed. If you glance up and see the teams playing at one end of the field, check out the "sticks". When these orange padded poles are cast aside on the turf, stop knitting and watch the game for a minute. Something exciting might happen, one way or the other.

That's enough about football for one post. While waiting for the game to start, I learned about a cool device for knitting the cable stitch. It's a short double-ended needle with a kink in the middle, and you use it to hold stitches and then transfer them back into your cable work. Very cool! I think my mom used a straight double-ended needle or something like a blunt safety pin.

First Football Game of the Season!

That's the press box atop the home side of our local stadium. See the rainbow? Only those of us on the visitor side got to enjoy it. It had been raining a good part of the afternoon, but shortly before game time we saw this and then it stopped raining. Yeah!

I appreciate rainless football games only because I keep the score book. When it rains, the paper gets wet and I can't write on it. Therefore, when the weather's wet, I have to go up in the stands or in the press box. There are some very nice people up there, but I miss the sidelines. Sometimes I get distracted by watching the nice people instead of focusing on the game. Bad, very bad.

Tonight's game was a blowout. It felt weird to be there, since the teachers' strike has delayed the start of school. The home team's band director was conspicuously absent, but the band played on. The coaches were all there, because they're on extra-duty contracts unrelated to the dispute.

It'll be nice to get everyone back in school, but I hope there's a little meaning to that rainbow. I'm hoping for a happy ending so we can have a good beginning.

Visitor Facilities

I've had to think long and hard about this post. Originally, it was going to be a rant about extremely sub-par stadium facilities. The largest school classification in the state ought to have indoor plumbing on the visitors' side of the football field, don'tcha think?

But then I reconsidered. This school district is next door to the one in which I grew up, and it's less suburban and more semi-rural. Read, lower property values. It's also bordered by not one but TWO military bases, which means there's a lot of transition of population. I don't know what their voting records are, but my guess would be that this district doesn't have a lot of money. Would I want to make indoor plumbing for the off-side of the football field a high priority? Nah. And at least there were three Honey Buckets for us to use.

On our way home from the game, we were fortunate enough to squeak into the drive-through at Krispy Kreme less than one minute before closing. Thanks to this good timing, the whole family had happy tastebuds for two days. Yeah!

Ready to Fumble! (NOT)

Am I in an alternate universe, where there are now two suns? Or is this Two Moons over Miami? No -- even better than that, it's football season! And how's this for an unidentifying photograph?

Best sideline quote tonight: "I don't know what just happened, but [Coach] sure is angry. What happened?"

What happened was that we intercepted the ball, but our player was ruled out of bounds so there was no interception. This was in the fourth quarter, coming down to the end of the game. We lost.

After the teams exchanged greetings and the other guys sang their school song and did a happy dance, our players dispersed and the coaches and wives started chatting. "How are you? Did you have a good week? It's nice to see you again!" I was tallying up the numbers in the scorebook, and at first it struck me as odd that the adults seemed so happy. We LOST, darn it! But the game is the kids' game. The coaches did everything they could do tonight, and our boys didn't come up with a win. They will have films to watch and practices to run before next Friday, but for now we have lives to live. We might as well enjoy the company of friends, right?

I wonder what new tricks the inflatable mascot will invent for next week.

About the Book, American Band

Blackie took me aside last night, very gently, and pointed out that yesterday's post contained next to nothing about the actual book that I had chosen to highlight. Dogs are alert to consistency and the keeping of promises, and she was sorry but had to reveal my error. Today, therefore, I will write a brief post about American Band.

Several years ago, my brother-in-law told me about a new book called Friday Night Lights. My small local library didn't have it yet, but they secured a copy for me through inter-library loan. What a great story! High school football in Texas, twenty thousand fans on a Friday night, personal drama, winning and losing -- it was all there. I loved that book. (Side note: I tried to listen to the book on CD a couple of years ago, in preparation for another football season, the foul language really put me off. I guess I can block it out when I'm reading, but not when I'm listening.)

American Band is the marching-band version of Friday Night Lights, but without the language and perhaps with even more depth of personal drama. There's even a Christian element in the plot, as students strive to discern how to blend servanthood and leadership and live out their spiritual priorities. It's a clean book, an intense story, and it makes me look forward to the two games we'll play this year against schools with marching bands extraordinaire. (The coaching staff should hope for dry weather on those nights if they want complete stats!)

Tis the Season -- Almost!

I found another wonderful book at the library. It's non-fiction, and it's what I would call "densely written." Not only is it rather lengthy, but I can't just fly through it at top speed. I don't want to miss ANYTHING, so no skimming. In fact, I haven't even finished reading it, but I couldn't wait to tell someone about it. The topic is so exciting that it has kept me awake several nights, unable to put the book down and turn off the light. It's that much fun!

The problem is, you may find this subject to be a total and complete snooze. For all I know, you'll be snoring in about eight seconds.
The topic? Marching bands.

When I was a kid, my parents took me to the Daffodil Parade every year. Sometimes we'd watch it in Tacoma, but usually avoid the biggest crowd and go to Puyallup. The floats were pretty, the clowns funny, the bagpipers interesting, but the best, BEST entries were the marching bands, and especially the drum sections. I loved feeling the bass drum reverberating in my own chest, wanting to dance to the cadences. Guess what my instrument of choice was, for eight years of school? Yep, percussion all the way! And guess which drum I chose to carry when it was my turn to march in parades? Yep, that big ol' bass drum.

Moving ahead a few years, my husband gradually taught me to enjoy watching football. Then he taught me how to keep a score book, starting with the eight-man team in our little farming community. Man, that was fun! We moved to a larger town, and the coach was pleased to have a reliable adult statistician. Then, we made another move to a metropolitan area where we didn't have any high school contacts. It was a few years before I was able to do stats again, and WOW what a step up! I've been privileged to be on the sideline of a 4A varsity (our state's biggest classification) program for twelve years, loving the up-close view of everything.

You may be wondering what football stats have to do with marching bands. As I said, I stand on the sideline to do the book -- it keeps my head in the game, both figuratively and literally. But if it's raining, I have to sit in the press box with the coaches or find a place in the stands so the book stays dry. During my first or second season with the 4A team, we played a game in the next town over. It rained cats, dogs, and pitchforks that night, so I found a seat above the 50 yard line and hunkered down. The area to my right was roped off for the band, and I figured it would be kind of fun to hear them, and no one else would sit close enough to all that noise to distract me from my job.

Little did I know...

This band happens to be one of the premiere marching bands in the region. When they walked into the stadium, I had never seen such a focused group of teens. Single file, flat-footed silent steps, eyes straight ahead, no goofing around. When they played, it was just about perfect and the music was much more complex than anything I had ever played. They had drum majors who put on quite an amazing show of their own. The director didn't have to do anything except watch. The score book for that game had several gaps where I missed entire plays as I stared at this incredible band. Although I can't recall their halftime show, what I do remember is that they had band dads in matching jackets who moved equipment for them. After the game, parents moved in behind the departing band members to remove the ropes and padded seat covers, and the dads loaded up all the big equipment onto big rolling carts. The kids did their silent walk, eyes straight ahead, and the dads pulled the carts across the street to the school.

Where did these people come from? Parents of teens don't make commitments like that, giving up their time and energy to haul drums and amps and xylophones for their kids every Friday night!

This town hosts one of the biggest Veterans' Day parades in the nation, and combines it with a marching band competition that incorporates parade marching and a field show. I've gone to the field show a few times, and once happened to walk past a parking lot full of school buses and a couple of charters. And... a couple of semi-trailers with the names of high school bands painted on the sides. The inside of the trailer was full of customized storage space for the band. Wow.

At one of the field competitions I watched, the crowd was so quiet that a trumpet soloist could be heard without amplification. Of course, we did have to strain a bit to hear the nuances of his piece over the sound of the raindrops on the roof. People were that attentive!

I could go on and on, and maybe I'll write more about this later, but if you've made it this far, here's the info about the book:

American Band, written by Kristen Laine. Here's a link to an NPR interview, too. Click on "listen now."