By David Freeze

     There have been a few times over the years that I have been embarrassed enough to want to find a big hole and crawl in it. This Thanksgiving Day, I was able to watch the end of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade from New York City. One of the feature bands for the whole parade was the Western Carolina University Pride of the Mountains Band.

     Founded in 1938 with just 23 students, the band now has about 500 participants. They have a giant sound and amazing choreography when performing on the football field. Students have to apply for acceptance into the probably the top college band in North Carolina.

     Back in 1971, I was pushing hard for acceptance to the United States Military Academy at West Point. A lot of the early hurdles were complete, including all the academics and mental testing. Left to go in the early spring was a week’s worth of physical conditioning and medical testing. I went with two other prospective students, one from Rowan and one from Cabarrus, to Womack Army Hospital at Fort Bragg. I was diagnosed with a heart murmur on the second day and was immediately washed out of the program.

    With just a few months until high school graduation, I quickly applied to WCU and got in. Because I had played in the band at South Rowan High School and greatly enjoyed the experience, I decided to apply for the WCU band. I was accepted for that too.

    In early summer, I was notified that the band students had to report to school about 10 days early in preparation for the early football season performances. As a freshman drummer, or a part of the percussion department, I was in way over my head. I found out that the band was huge and filled with strong musicians, most of them accomplished music majors. Music majors had to practice for hours and then work in band practices too. Those band practices usually took half a day during that first ten days and at least two hours a day once school was in session.

     A lot was expected of the band members and learning the planned choreography was especially challenging. There was a new program each week to learn, usually only lasting about seven minutes when performed.

     As a meek freshman, I was committed to the program and would receive classroom credit for it. As the youngest percussion member, I was given the cymbals to play. Expected to make the perfect cymbal clangs at the right time, I worried more about screwing up my left and right, backwards and forward marching.

     The band went to East Tennessee State in Johnson City, far enough away that we would spend the night after the game. We were told the game was being televised, my first ever such experience. Still, I was excited to be a part of such a high performing band.

     Once arriving at the stadium, we did a walk through of the program and then about 200 band members went to the motel to dress for the game. Sleeping four to a room, I was fortunate to be sharing the space with one good friend and two others that I knew.

     Back at the game, everyone anticipated the halftime performance of the best band around. I was a little nervous but not overly so. With the performance finally underway, I stayed on track until……, I turned the wrong way and immediately stood out like the worst swollen sore thumb!

     Once the program finished and the band back in the stands, the band director (I will never forget his name but won’t use it here) immediately called attention to my error. He said, “Where is Mr. Freeze? Let’s hear it for Mr. Freeze turning the wrong way!” Immediately the whole band said, “Duhhh!”

     For the rest of the game, the evening at the motel and the long ride home, only the one good friend spoke to me. Those errors simply were not made in that program. It seemed as if no one forgot for the rest of the football season, at which time my experience with the WCU band was complete.

    Embarrassed tremendously, I never turned the wrong way again and the bad memory faded. When I look back on it now, I’m at least smiling inwardly. What I thought at the time was the worst possible experience, was certainly not. And probably long forgotten by everybody but me.

    I raised my head, owned my mistake, learned from the experience and moved forward. Just one of many times over the years.