The wait was easy. About thirty minutes before the theater opened we were treated to a really wild exhibition by the dozen or so strong United States Coast Guard Silent Drill Team, with slow but tightly synchronized marching, gun twirling and rhythmic stomping. Their drill rifles had to have been four feet long, with an additional foot long bayonet mounted to the muzzle. At one point the one of the parade day officials (Grand Marshall, perhaps) was led into the center of the corps and had to stand there rigidly while the team circled him and went about their routine, throwing the rifles over the guys head and occasionally lunging their knives at the poor Joe who stood there nervously grinning throughout. While those guys would probably bayonet me if I were to call it "dance," nevertheless it was a wonderfully choreographed and beautiful presentation. After the presentation was over the team came back out and talked to everyone and let the kids hold their rifles. N it seems, who sat on my shoulders for the event, was just under eye-level with each of them; you didn't notice it when they were all in formation, but it quickly became obvious that each one was over seven feet tall and generally made out of iron and granite. My hand is still aching from the three or four guys I shook hands with. These were some big, solid dudes.While we were watching the exhibition Stacy started pointing out all the bald, eight foot tall secret service types bustling about and all the army guys armed with rather potent looking weapons that they did not seem the least bit interested in twirling about. Stacy started getting a little anxious and asked me what was going on. "Duh: Armed Forces Day!" I said. But when N noticed guys in camo with binoculars on the roofs of all the surrounding buildings, talking into head mics and not looking particularly paradeish, I started getting a little spooked too. I think the fire power was explained, however, when we were all finally seated in the theater and the host began introducing all the dignitaries in the audience. It seems all the ranking officers of the Pacific divisions of each of the armed services were in attendance. We were awash in vice-admirals and brigadier generals! (I kept listening for the chop, chop, chop of the Presidential helicopter landing out on the courtyard, but he must have been running late.)
The concert itself started around 7:30, which is generally when we start winding L and N down for the night. Fortunately the kids seemed to really enjoy it. L, who is now always wiped at the end of her school day, was definitely the fussier of the two, but she eventually curled up on Mommy's lap and dozed. N was at my side and was a ball of squirming interest. "That was some good music!" he would proclaim way too loudly in those sacred pauses between movements.
The music was, expectedly, weighted to rousing Sousa marches and patriotic military tunes and the excitement was contagious. (With one exception; I don't know why, but for some reason I can't stand Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the U.S.A." I know, I'm going to Patriot Purgatory.) The band was absolutely excellent. Stacy and I compared notes later; while it is genetically impossible not to enjoy Sousa, we were both somewhat surprised to find that our two favorite pieces were were actually by contemporary composers. "California Jubilee" by Cali-native Roger Nixon was an Aaron Couplandesque romp that gave the percussion section a chance to shine. Our hands-down favorite, however, was "Xerxes," an "angry march" by John Mackey. Dark, stomping and cruel, this is a brilliant piece. I've since found an MP3 version on the composer's website, but so much is lost in not having the full band right there in front of you and feeling the thuds and stomps. Again, the percussion group gets a workout, but so does the rest of the band. I spoke to one of the players after the concert and asked him if "Xerxes" was as much fun to play as it was to listen to. He laughed and said it was a real "chop buster!"
The concert finished up a little after 9:00 with L asleep and N bopping around, fully energized. It was gratifying to have the older folks sitting behind us complement N on how well he behaved. I suspect the older generation is so generally appalled by "kids these days" that they go out of their way to cheer on the families that still seem to be trying to keep a lid on things. (The gentleman who sat in front of L and received a couple of her kicks to the head did not pay many compliments.) We left recommitting ourselves to seeking out more inexpensive musical outlets. The kids so enjoy them, and I'd forgotten how much more aggressive, tactile and powerful living breathing music can be when a living breathing orchestra is attacking you with it!
A special thanks to the U.S. Coast Guard for all the great work they are doing mitigating the oil spill disaster in the Gulf Coast right now. The Gulf Coast is my old stomping grounds, and I am simultaneously crushed by the potential disaster there, and enhearted by such fine folks as these working to save it. My deepest gratitude to these men and women!
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