I love community bands. When people who love music get together to perform, beautiful things happen.
Many of the members in my local community band (founded in 1896) joined the band right after World War II. They keep on playing, playing, stubbornly hanging on to their instruments even in their advanced age. Their dedication is an inspiration.
Sunday, the bass drummer didn't show up, so Al came out of retirement (he has a bad back) to march with the band.
"I was feeling good. I walked over to hand the cymbals to Mike. Then the world just swerved to the right."
Al fainted in the unusually intense heat and humidity. Crumpling to the ground, he smashed his lip on the drum and bruised his shins on the crashing cymbals. His wrist nearly broke in the fall. Within a few minutes, his shirt was soaked with blood.
He was evacuated by the parade ambulance.
Al will never march again.