While I love the 4th of July and love the celebration of the Declaration of Independence, today's 4th was a rather quiet day at our house. No parades. No day spent at the beach. No huge celebration. Just a quiet day.
That wasn't the case fifty years ago. (Oh, My! I am OLD!)
Our small town band spent every July 4th marching in the local parade and providing the music for two days of rodeo. Except for one exceptionally hot 4th, we always wore our red wool uniforms, our ties, plumed hats and white shoes. We stepped smartly, too, for our instructor didn't put up with any sloppy laziness in the ranks. She stepped pretty smart herself, always marching just to the right of the lead baton twirler. If she could keep marching regardless of rain, snow or sleet, who were we to slack off!
Today's small towns seldom have the musical programs that we did. It's a pity. We gained so much. I still hold this instructor in high esteem. She taught both band and vocal to the entire school from first grade through high school. She pushed us, she encouraged us, she insisted we do our best! What a lady! What a dedicated teacher! How she did love us! Thank you, Mrs. Jane Matthews. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.