Confessions of a bona fide band geek

I don't recall why I chose the flute in sixth grade as my cadet-band instrument of choice.

I'm guessing it had more to do with the size of the instrument case I'd have to tote home every night than with the sweet sound of the instrument. The flute case is among the smallest, unless you play the pocket-sized piccolo. In any case, I picked the flute and that was that.

My parents bought me a used flute that once had been spectacularly shiny and silver but was unsightly, with pitted metal when I became its owner. Nevertheless, I took to the flute like the proverbial duck to water and practiced to no end.

I lived for band.

My children would tell me years later that I was a bona fide band geek, as they confided that they, too, had been labeled band geeks.

Band geeks? I was aghast. I seriously had never heard the term until my daughters filled me in.

The band programs at my alma mater, Hawley High School, were among the finest in the state. Our varsity band consistently won top honors at music competitions and we all thought we were a pretty big deal. We played spectacular pieces like "Carmina Burana" and even made a long-playing record. We worshipped our band director.

It may be hard to fathom, but in my hometown the cool kids were in band.

I remember thinking I was some kind of virtuoso when I signed up for band camp in the eighth grade. I was probably an above-average flute player for my age, but was about to get an exercise in humility.

After my parents dropped me and my cousin Margaret off at some camp in the wilderness near Bemidji (all I remember is lots of trees and a lake, which pretty much describes most of Minnesota) we had to audition for seating arrangement. I should note here that nearly all of the students at that band camp were high-school juniors and seniors and way more into band than me and Margaret. These were band geeks on steroids.

I ended up playing second flute, second-to-the-last chair, and my only consolation was that Margaret was seated at the very end of the clarinet section.

We survived band camp and all its humiliation and I eventually got a new flute, the same flute I still play today. I went on to a respectable band career and became the flute section leader. And I came to appreciate the versatility of the flute in later years.

I've played at my fair share of weddings through the years, starting with "Color My World" in the late 1970s to "A Whole New World" (the theme song for Disney's 'Aladdin') at my niece's wedding in 2003.

The flute comes in handy for church music, too, and adds a nice dimension to most any piece. Earlier this year I had the privilege of hearing Kalispell's own Shelley Collins in concert and played in an ensemble with her and other flutists for a church service. Collins, the daughter of Cliff and Lynda Collins, has a Doctor of Musical Arts in flute performance and pedagogy and currently is assistant professor of flute and music history at Delta State University in Mississippi. She is extraordinarily talented.

But what struck me as we rehearsed was her ability to teach us at our level - the occasional flutists still playing our high-school instruments. Her enthusiasm for the instrument is contagious in the same way my high-school band director's passion was infused in us.

When it comes right down to it, that passion is what music is all about, no matter what the players' abilities. If all fledgling musicians were as blessed as I have been to have teachers who truly inspire their students, the world would be filled with band geeks. And what a wonderful world that would be.

Features editor Lynnette Hintze may be reached at 758-4421 or by e-mail at lhintze@dailyinterlake.com