Under the Friday Night Lights

Friday Night Lights mean a few things for me. It means: glam girls, hair spray hands, bleacher bootie and parent pride. Not mention a whole lot of touchdowns!

While a field show is a work in progress; teasing us at the first football game with two movements and practice flags...the second show should be guard girls in the guise of white Lycra and ruffles, sparkling under those lights with glitter and rhinestones, twirling fabulously fantastic flags to the melodic tunes of "Seasons".  Horns will blow, drums will beat, flutes will flutter, flags will spin and the band will bring down the house--under those Friday Night Lights.

Last night's game ended with fireworks, figuratively not literally, wondering if the opponents ever showed for the game; which was good for the band--more audience.  The audience gathered round the marching band as they took to the stadium courtyard to sing.  Yes, I said sing.  A singing marching band, which one would think should be full of tone deaf kids that would send Simon Cowell screaming his insulting blips.  But, no, when those kids opened their mouths they revealed a hidden instrument--their voices, their singing voices in four part harmony.  They sounded like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.  It was the sound of Joy to the World by tune of the Lindbergh High Alma mater.  It was a chorus of green and gold clad angels.  We live in a community that so many plant there own seeds back in the soil.  You could probably ask a thousand alums in those stands to sing the Alma mater and blank stares would greet.  I am one of those blank stares.  How exciting it is to think these 231 kids will leave the same school I attained my high school tassel from and will know a song that gives them pride and ownership to the ties that are said to offer up "the best years of your life."

So until next Friday when "to Lindbergh High we raise our voices"...and our trumpets, trombones, tubas, clarinets, saxophones, sousaphones....