One does not simply get prepared

The other night we had dinner at church and my parents, as they normally do, sat at the same table. They did half a dozen tours as I was growing up, because my brother, like Savannah, was in the color guard. In those days, I was not enamored with the Corps, it was something my younger brother did. Anyway, with this experience, plus the fact that we are leaving on Sunday at 5:30 AM, lead my Mom to ask if we were ready? We're we prepared?

Our stuff? Physically? Emotionally? What in the world is that question supposed to mean?

In short, the answer has to be no. I don't think you can be any more prepared for tour than you can be be prepared for a tidal wave. The people at work, the acquaintance who know I will be gone, think this is a vacation. This is not a vacation. I will not be returning well rested.

For ten days, starting at "who in their right mind would be up":30 on Sunday, I will be driving three random middle school or high school kids from city to city and state to state. If we have drummers, they will likely beat the inside of the car to pieces. If we have boys their will be piles of trash filling the floor. If we have middle school girls... so much giggling.

Now we do get to go to some cool places. Fort Pitt, Philadelphia, the Deep River Muster. Places that the Corp has been invited to perform, which is exciting and make me proud. This, though, becomes a continuing cycle of practicing, dressing, scouting, performing and getting out of uniform. We, all the parents, end up being a support staff, which is fun, but is constant work.

This produces long day, days that leave you ready to collapse by their end. It is a good thing we are so tired, too, because the sleeping accommodations are not what you might be expecting. They are not what anyone expects. At this location, we find the most affordable housing possible, which is almost always a school, or YMCA, or military hanger. Any big, open, reasonable temperate place will do. We sleep all together in one giant room. Boys on one side, girls on the other and the parents ringing the walls. Air mattresses and cots fill the space. There is always snoring, hot, cold, doors swinging open, early risers. You need to have a kind of sleep fortitude. There is no Holiday Inn.

How do you get prepared for that?

Last year, I remember getting home with two distinct, but powerful feelings. First, I was so tired that I lounged at the couch not even being able to focus on TV and thought, I might have broken myself. Brain cooked. Second, I remember how proud I was not just of Savannah, but of the whole Corps, the kids at the parents. We had done something really special.

So, no, I am not prepared, but when the wave washes over me, I will lift my feet, stretch my arms out and let it take me. I know when the current releases the grasp it will have on me, I will be tired and standing in a new, better place.