Four Years and a Blanket

In the summer of 2019, I had just graduated from high school. I knew that I was going to go UNK and get a degree in computer science. I had always loved computers and technology, so it seemed like the perfect choice. I had all of my classes picked out, a dorm room with a selected roommate, and confidence in my ability. I was ready to take the academic strides necessary for me to achieve what I wanted to do.

There was only one thing that I was stuck on. One thing that I was nervous to do.

MUS-103. Marching band.

I was incredibly scared. I had signed up for the class and received all of the required music to be a part of the drumline, and some of it was above my level. I was never the best musician; I only played percussion instruments as a hobby and my music reading skills left a bit to be desired. When I saw those notes glaring at me from the 20-page music pamphlet, judging me with the strength of an accented rimshot, a terrible anxious feeling rose within my stomach. I began to doubt my decision to join the band. Many hours were spent bathed in the unforgiving glow of my laptop with the cursor over the ‘drop class’ button. The thought of clicking was so enticing. It was the blanket that could shield me from the cold of uncertainty.

But I did not click that button.

Fast forward three and a half years, and I have just finished my final season as a member of the Pride of the Plains Marching Band. I participated in a banquet that celebrated all of the members, and because of my senior status, I received a blanket with my name and section embroidered on it. It is not a particularly quality one. The stitching is large and a bit clumsy, and some loose threads stick out erroneously. That doesn’t matter to me though. In a way, it suits the blanket well. I played the biggest bass drum on the line, and I think I reflect that clumsiness, lumbering around blind as a bat.

The blanket is a powerful symbol to me. One that shows my dedication and mistakes equally. A lot of time and effort went into being a part of the drumline, and I have certainly made mistakes. There is not a blanket big enough to have the sheer quantity of loose ends to signify that. But the blanket I have does a pretty dang good job, and it tries its best.

Looking at my name written in blue and gold, I thought back to my indecision in 2019. I was so close to running away from that cold uncertainty. So close to letting my fear get the better of me. I am so glad I didn’t. After all…

This blanket will actually keep me warm.