By Millard Don Carriker on Tuesday, 26 July 2011
Category: Legacy Story

Strike Up The Band

Pleasant Hill school had a Rhythm Band  made up of a couple of dozen little kids, who, with kazoo's, triangles, tambourines, rhythm sticks, sleigh bells, drums and cymbals created sounds that were said to be music.   We wore white shirts or blouses, and pants or skirts and actually made public appearances.  I recall one time we "went on tour" and played for a function at some other school.

I joined the Rhythm Band as a cymbal player.  But within a short time I was promoted to the lofty position as Director of the Pleasant Hill Rhythm Band.  In that capacity, it was my glory to wear a blue cape, lined with red satin which I threw over my shoulder while standing in front of the group waving my arms “conducting” as all those noise-makers in childish hands and mouths made a din to the accompaniment of the teacher, who was playing a tune on the piano.  It’s a pity that only the very wealthy owned cameras. Tape recorders were, like the wings of which Icarus dreamed,  far in the future.   There are no pictures and no sound recording of the music created by the Pleasant Hill Rhythm Band.  But the cymbals that were my ticket into the world of music lie in a cardboard box in our garage, with the word  Memento's printed on it.  A bit of history that may someday, when I am hopefully strumming a harp, find its way into a Flea Market.


My innate love for reading and words also helped me erase the stigma of being the only kid in school to have pistol-whipped a playmate.  Phonics, unlike the addition, multiplication, and division of numbers, made perfectly good sense to me.  When the time came for the annual Spelling Bee, I easily won the title of Third Grade Champion Speller.   A dried, brittle certificate attesting to my prowess lies in that same Memento box that contains my cymbals.

I was a good speller; but not that good.  After winning the Third Grade Championship I had to take on, Mano a Mano, the champions from all other grades up through the eighth grade.   My climb to fame in the Spelling Bee ended when a kid in a higher grade level shot me down.  But I left Pleasant Hill with two pluses and one minus to my credit and two out of three, as they say,ain't bad.

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