Time and Success

Time and Success

            “ And now the Marion Patriot Pride Marching Band presents a portion of its 2012 halftime performance show “A Day”.

I hear the omniscient voice of the Marion Patriots loud and clear

            “Shekina Graham, is you band ready to take the field?”

She solutes and begins to dart for her podium as the color guard begins to “wake us up” from our rest. As I stretch and yawn, it hits me. High School. Sophomore year. This is what it all boils down to.  Once more the voice begins to speak.

            “You may take the field in exabition”

My hands tremble uncontrollably. Beads of sweat begin to take shape on my brow as I approach my first step off. As the sun formation begins to take shape I realize that fear has no place in my heart. Pride, love, and joy quickly jump in to smother fear and its identical twin, nervousness, and step in to take their places.

Scatter drill followed by a quick sharp clean set. I soon conclude that performing this show was no longer a dream, but a reality. And to think, learning how to read notes and rhythms on a page was my first step to success.

The day has finally arrived.  The day I have been waiting for since the first day of sixth grade year. I jump out of bed quickly. Eager to arrive to my destination on time, I throw on the first thing I see in my closet, my favorite tinker bell shirt, dark wash jeans, and my brand new Keds. Not knowing what was in store for the rest of the day, nervousness swoops in like a flash flood. A man I had never seen before looks at me and begins to hand me a small black box.

            “Dynastiee Lewis?”

            “Yes sir.”

I begin to realize that what I had been dreaming of was about to come true. I was about to learn how to play and instrument.

A loud blast from a trombone awakens me from my flash back. Sophomore year again. Mr. McCracken looks at me diligently and begins to correct some of our flaws. I sit back in my chair and focus hard on the music sitting on my stand. I begin to mark the sheet of music. I begin to become mesmerized by the notes until they begin to jumble on the page and become one big unrecognizable blur. And once again I hear myself being lectured.

“ As 7^th graders, you all should know the names of the notes by now. But as I have told you all before, learning how to read notes on a page is like learning your times tables.  You may not get them all correct, but if you give yourself sometime, you will eventually know them all.

These wise words pile up in one ear and slide directly out the other, like water flowing through a cup with no bottom. I slouch down not wanting to listen to the long dull story. My mind begins to drift off, and my eyes become heavier and heavier.

            “Lets run that set one more time, and then we can take a water break.

After school practice. At this point, I hate high school band. The sun was blazing down. Sweat runs down my face like little rivers. I feel Michael patting me on the back.

“You’re doing good girl.”

“Thanks Michael.”

This compliment gives me the integrity to keep going on. My feet hurt. Nothing could have prepared me for the mental anguish I was currently experiencing. We successfully run the set again. Finally, a water break. Accomplishment allows me to drink my water with pride. The cooling sensation tingles my tongue like the air on a cold winter’s day. I realize that we have a small crowd forming in the sophomore parking lot. Being put on public display wasn’t unusual anymore. It was just a sign of accomplishment.

Christmas. My first Christmas concert. It was a sign of a new band, a new group of 6^th graders, a new beginning, a new feeling. My heart flutters in my chest.  Mr. G gives the crowd a brief message, then a short story on the first song we are about to play. I could care less about the concert at this moment. But I think to myself, just suck it up and get it over with.  I take a deep breath, and start playing.

Success. We just scored another touchdown.

“Fight song! Ready, one, two, one, two, ready go!”

Friday night lights buzz along to the tune of night dwelling bugs. All the other sophomores, along with me, become very annoyed with playing the same song 5000 times. The buzzer finally sounds for half time. We are finally released from the stands. I wait for my friends as I contemplate to myself.

“I won’t ever quit band, I refuse to quit band.”

My mind jumbles with these thoughts as I say a few aloud. My circle of friends all nod in agreement. Now that I actually love what I do, the 2 years I have left of high school won’t be so bad after all. I try to catch up with everyone else as they run to the concession stand. 

I feel the shakes, and pats on my shoulders. I open one eye, its Michael and Patrick.

“Dynastiee, wake up were home.” 

Patrick picks up my backpack and hands it to me over the seat. He smiles and then in a British accent says,

“Here you go Mrs. Lewis”

I reply, “Thank you Bobby”

My voice cracks. I ask Patrick for the time, he tells me 2:30.

I grunt. I really don’t feel like moving but I get up. I gain a small ammount of energy. Home at last. Being home signaled our last trip as a band family. Nothing is processing through my mind at this point but sleep. But as I look back to the past I realize that if it was not for that little back box, I would not be the same Person I am today. That little black box taught me integrity, it also allowed me to release my stress in a new way. Nothing could ever replace that feeling.   So many lessons have been learned. So much energy used. So much sweat. Nothing could ever satisfy me as much as being part of the Marion Patriot Pride Marching Band. What we do is special, fun, and not made for many people. I finally found my key to being successful.

A B C D E F G and so on..

Growing up in a family of teachers, you would think I was the brightest crayon in the whole box. This was true, especially when it came to reading and writing. My mom, a first grade teacher, wouldn’t expect anything but the best from me and my sister, and that is exactly what she got.
          As a toddler, I enjoyed many of the books and lesson plans my mother would bring home from her classroom. Most of them were very simple and typical books for a first grader to read. My preschool teachers always found it very awkward that I was only about 3 years old and reading better than most kindergarteners. I could read the words on the page, but I didn’t quite comprehend what I was doing until about kindergarten. I knew how to read, but I didn’t know it would change my whole life, and open up a whole new world of opportunities for me.
           Before I even started speaking my mother would always sing songs and read books to me right before bedtime. Every night my mother would bring home simple activities for me and my sister to do, such as sight words, A B C cards, number cards, and tons more. So by the time I started kindergarten, I was fully identifying and reading first grade sight words.
          When I surpassed first grade, I was very eager to learn as many new things ahead of my grade as possible. When I reached second grade, my aunt became a 3^rd grade reading teacher. She would help me learn some of the new things she taught her students throughout the week, and even bring a few books from her class room for me to read. I found these books very pleasing, and soon after started reading many book in the Junie B. Jones series, most of which came from my aunt’s class room or my public library. But little did I know, I wasn’t fully soaking in these books until I started reading for fun.
           Being in school, we were almost forced to do this AR, accelerated reading, program. The program was read a book, take the computerized test over the book, get the points, go to an AR party and move on with the rest of your life. While racking up point in the hundreds, no one really knew what it was like to read a book and fall in love with the book and want to read it over and over again.
         The only real reason we actually read was because we wanted to go to the stupid parties. Now that we have gotten older, I don’t see as many students with their heads buried in books. If they are not benefiting from the read, they aren’t reading at all. At one point in time, we all enjoyed reading. It may have been from a magazine, sports books, newspaper or just a piece of paper with words, reading has benefited us all in today’s world. If we didn’t have reading it would be almost impossible for us to accomplish any tasks in life.

Why I Hate Religion But Love Jesus

"If Jesus came to your church, would they actually let him in?"

I know what you’re thinking.  What type of question is this? Of course everyone would! Why wouldn’t I! You would have to be crazy not to let him in! Yes, this may be the answer for a little while. But once you got what you wanted, would you shun him away and move on to the next new social trend? Society has changed over the years and people have become greedy and judgmental. Once they get what they want, they want more. Give them an inch and they want a mile. And throw that blessing away like last weeks moldy lasagna. Not realizing the miracles before them but instead misusing them and making poor judgment about what has just happened to them. Bottom Line? Society needs to stop being disrespectful and abusing good things in life and learn to treat everyone the same and not be so greedy.

Now, there is a difference between not recognizing a miracle and just flat out abusing it. For example, in a short story written by Gabriel Garcia Marquez  the villager show a lot of disrespect towards the old man with wings, and expect a miracle or healing in return. And even after the creature has solved a few problems (..Err more or less..) The villagers want more from him than what they can produce. And when they grew tired of the angel, they denied him. Although they may have thought nothing of leaving the angel, others may have seen them as being greedy, heart less, or even cruel. There are stories in the bible about Peter denying God (John 18; 15-27).  

Overall, society is just very rude, and greedy. How can you expect someone to do something nice for you, but you bully and abuse them all the time? In the story Pelayo and his wife fed the angel and gave him a place to regroup instead of shunning him away. And in return the child woke up with a desire to eat and no fever. So learn from the story and be kind and kindness will come right back to you.