Holiday Hoopla 2013

Shadowbox Live
The Worly Building
Brewery District
Columbus, Ohio

by
Rick Brown

Click Here for the Review

Choir Risers

by
Rick Brown

I began attaining my musical chops in 5th grade band. I enjoyed playing the trombone for a good while … until I picked up the guitar after realizing it was a much more effective babe magnet. My school had a wonderful band director … a man whose family attended the same church as mine. Unfortunately he left for another school by the time I reached high school. The new guy was one of those obsessive, insecure musicians who thought dance band was the backup group for his trumpet playing. Still, I persevered … playing in four separate bands at once for the entire school year. I didn’t mind really … except for one glaring issue.
    
I HATED marching band.

Oh sure parades were fun. They seemed almost anarchistic really: no uniforms … we took over the street. But parades were very few and far between. So I unceremoniously quit band after grade 9 … a lot because I despised wearing a uniform. I quit Boy Scouts for much the same reason. Too “militaristic” you know.

Hey! It was the 1960s!!

Close to the end of my junior year it dawned on me that my grades were so poor I’d better get high marks as a senior or I’d never get into college. The Vietnam War raged in 1969 and I was mere months away from registering for the draft.
    
So I signed up for choir, music theory, all the choral classes I could accommodate in one year’s time. I even joined Key Club … whatever that was … just to pad my resume. My junior year had been a dark one, full of overreaching rebellion. I needed desperately to turn things around. I even finished 3rd in the State of Ohio Test for Music Theory. (I hesitate to brag about this. In 1969 who knows how many people TOOK the music theory test. It easily could have been 6 or 7.)
    
I really liked being in Senior Choir and Mixed Ensemble. Also, I was briefly in a barbershop quartet that was a good experience. I made new friends. My grades improved dramatically. Unlike church choir, this was challenging and fun.
    
One day I wandered into the choir room early for rehearsal. Sitting in the risers … about two thirds of the way up … was Cindy. She was a cute girl who moved in and out of my life regularly … and had for quite some time. She lived across the street from my good buddy Doug. Cindy was friendly, approachable and one of the few girls I always felt comfortable around. She was the first girl I ever asked to slow dance … at my very first school dance. (But that’s a different “riser story” for another time.)
    
And Cindy and I shared a healthy rebellious attitude towards authority. I found her attractive for many reasons beyond her looks.
    
So I picked up my folder holding scores of scores and meandered up into the risers. I said hello and sat down next to her to chat before class began.
    
After exchanging pleasantries, the conversation inevitably turned to the draft, the war, and the protests. This was just months before the shootings at Kent State. Cindy was dressed appropriately for our chat and the era. She wore a green army jacket and skirt. While wearing a “uniform” was deemed “establishment”, wearing a “uniform” out of context was “radical”.
    
Girls were not allowed to wear pants of any kind at the time unless it was less than 20 degrees outside … hence the skirt. It was a mini … so I certainly didn’t mind. The “school dress code” was yet another source of teenage outrage. I found Cindy’s attire both intriguingly rebellious and endearingly attractive. And it wasn’t long before our conversation came around to the “ridiculous and oppressive” school dress code.  We both emphatically expressed our disdain.
    
Then Cindy looked at me and said, “Rick, what really galls me is how authorities assume we’re supposed to accept things ‘just because’ … you know …without question … like it’s a universal truth that’s always been and always will be.”
    
I agreed enthusiastically and asked her for an example of what bugged her.
    
Very earnestly she replied, “It’s like underwear!”
    
“Uhhh? … Underwear?” I asked.
    
 “YEAH! What … IS …  IT … FOR? What’s the reason we are all expected … forced    really … to wear underwear?”
    
I fell silent.

I honestly could think of no reason to wear underwear.
    
And then I had an epiphany of sorts.

I thought:

This girl is NOT … wearing …  any … underwear.”

After that day choir practice was never quite the same for me … much better in some respects … less focused in many others.

Spamalot

Shadowbox Live
The Worly Building
Brewery District
Columbus, Ohio  

by

Rick Brown

Click Here for the Review

Rick's book, Best Bites is available at:
Lulu.com & Amazon.com

Hallway Waiting Area

by
Amy McCrory

Come About

by
aNna rybaT

Blog:
http://www.annarybat.blogspot.com

Hmmm's

by

Rick Brown

Hmmm # 64

Prayer is
…  at best ...
 a simple confession
you are not
in
control.

Hmmm # 65

I believe in
grace.
Not bestowed
by an old man
 in 
outer space.

Nightmare On Front Street

Shadowbox Live
The Worly Building
Brewery District
Columbus, Ohio  

by

Rick Brown

Click Here for the Review