I was an awkward kid attending a private catholic High School and of course a member of the band. At least I was a member of a somewhat respectable (if there is such a thing) portion of the band, the drum corps. During my senior year it was announced that we would be marching in the New York City, St. Patrick’s day parade. We were all flabbergasted. While we could handle the local band and flag competition and the routine football game half time show, this was a REAL performance. The sheer magnitude and enormity of the prospect actually made our rag tag ensemble of performers take our preparation seriously. For weeks on end we drilled, marched, kept cadence and actually played what sounded like actual music. We became quite good. Upon arriving in the Big Apple in our orange school buses we were in awe. I recall the slack-jawed marvel on the faces of everyone in the band. We behaved perfectly for our band director, who was ironically a short red headed jewish bandleader at a Catholic High School. What a sight we were. I recall with great fondness the brisk spring air and the hustle and bustle around the parade. We found our assigned spot and prepared for departure. I recall little of the time leading to the start, but once we left it was magnificent. We were on top of the world and performed like it. I never considered myself very accomplished, but I kept the cadence in between songs in perfect rhythm. My arms were ready to fall off by the end, but the energy and beauty of the city, along with the endless rows of spectators made every bit of it worthwhile. The feeling of the crush of the crowd and the massive height and endless rows of the giant skyscrapers was an image I will never forget. New York City has never presented itself with so much glamour, class and excitement as it did on that St. Patrick’s day long ago. A sea of kelly green spectators and an endless stream of parade participants is perhaps the best way to spend a St. Patricks day in New York City
