Heartbreaker

End of the cruise

You spend weeks, months, riding ships and buses, playing two, three shows a day with the same bunch of guys, sleeping next to them, eating with them, cursing them, smelling them, fighting with them. Some shows bring crowds of thousands to their feet; others barely attract the attention of a couple of streetwalkers and a guy with a push-broom.

You think the punishment will never end, but eventually you get back home, run down the gangplank and take off on a hard-earned 48-hour liberty. Freed from close confinement with the idiot brigade, you hit the beach, reveling in your freedom until the town closes down and you go home to hit the rack.

You wake up late the next morning, stretch, take a deep breath and it hits you: fifteen other guys aren't stinking up the room with body odor, onion rings and lousy jokes. You roll out of the rack and there's nobody there to try to mooch money off you. You shuffle into the head and don't have to wait on line. You stand there in your skivvies, staring at the wall, and you say to yourself:

"Now what?"

Kids among goats

During the Saturday night dinner/dance, some bold members of the Fleet Forces band summoned up the courage to join us on the bandstand. First, a young MU took a spot in the trombone section, next a drummer climbed aboard and pretty soon half the NMA Big Band was sporting flashy crackerjacks and youthful enthusiam.

"...to emphasize the importance of music in the Navy"

ADM Jonathan W. Greenert wanted a ticket to the Saturday Night Dinner/Dance of the 2009 reunion of the Navy Musicians Association.

The admiral got his way, perhaps because we were playing in his backyard; he's the Commander of U.S. Fleet Forces Command, formerly known as the United States Atlantic Fleet.

Admiral Greenert sees the Fleet Forces Ceremonial Band regularly; it is, after all, his band. Yet, I doubt he has ever seen  the band greeted with greater appreciation than that shown by the Navy Musicians Association on Saturday night. The applause began as the first piccolo player entered the ballroom, grew to a roar as bandsmen followed in single file, and by the time the last tuba player came through the door, the ballroom was awash in a tidal wave of appreciation. It is not often that a Navy band earns a standing ovation before playing. 

In a few weeks, ADM Greenert will move to the position of Vice Chief of Naval Operations, a job in which he will deal with the perennial proposals to cut bands and reduce their funding. I can't help thinking that when such paperwork comes across his desk, he'll remember the Fleet Forces Band's stirring rendition of "Army of the Nile" and the wild applause that followed the closing chord.

The mission of the Navy Musicians Association is, in part, "to emphasize the importance of music in the Navy." I'd say that by showing Admiral Greenert our appreciation of the professionalism and artistry of the Fleet Forces Band, we completed our mission.

Although we'll never know, perhaps our efforts will, in some small way, help prod ADM Greenert to increase music program funding. Who knows; maybe he'll even get the NMA some new stand lights and an electric piano with a functional middle "c."

Hey, I'm thinking big.

Got videos?

The lounge and rehearsal spaces of the Holiday Inn were visited by quite a few MUs with video cameras last week.

We want to see them. Especially videos.

(Sure, we like photos, too. Go ahead, send me the URL to your online albums, and I'll link to it).

But We Want Videos. Got a video from the NMA reunion on YouTube or similar video host? Send me the URL.

Max Murray, for instance, sent me the embedded link to a YouTube clip of me demonstrating the one-chord guitar technique that got me where I am today, As a self-sacrificial Jesus-like exemplar of humility, I've linked to it a few posts below, so you can see the awesome results you'll get if you send me your video links.

Put 'em up on any video hosting site--YouTube is a favorite--and tell me where they are. It's that simple.

Like playing the guitar.

After the Ball is Over

The band has taken the coda and played the stinger. Ambrose O'Donnell and a few NMA stalwarts are unplugging stand lights and packing up fronts. Although a few MUs are still in the lounge telling tales, the reunion is over.

Executive Vice-president Bob Leketa has flopped himself onto a bench in the surprisingly cool night air in front of the restaurant. "This is my favorite part of the reunion," he says.

By the time you and I show up with our horn cases, ready for a four-day squall of NMA music and camaraderie, Bob has been working for an entire typhoon season. During the reunion he is always three places at once, meeting with the board of directors, the hotel management and staff, putting out fires before anyone notices the smoke.

So we'll pardon Bob if he looks a little sleepy as things wind down. Besides, we want him rested up; the work for next year's reunion begins approximately tomorrow.