With Memorial Day upon us and with Master Chorus Eastside
performing a choral rendition of “The Stars and Stripes Forever” (which until
now, I had only witnessed performed by mostly military bands and school bands),
while biking recently, my pedaling had a constant rhythm which had me mentally performing
the march. This brought me back to West
Point, the United States Military Academy (USMA) on September 11, 2001.
We were living there (which is about 45 miles north of
New York City on the Hudson River) when the attacks that day occurred. The professors (mostly Army, some Air Force
and Navy--my husband was one of the few Air Force blue uniforms in a field of
Army green) who taught at the academy, and their families, lived in the hills
overlooking the Hudson River.
Suddenly, because we were a number one target (4,000
elite Army cadets at USMA) for an enemy attack, West Point became surrounded by
guards all carrying M-16s and machine guns throughout where we lived, went to
school, shopped and worked, asking any of us out walking, biking or driving for
our military IDs. Every car would be
searched (every hood, every fluid, every trunk, mirrors under cars, everything,
while several guards pointed their M-16s at the vehicle) upon entrance to the
once very open academy. Due to this new
routine, effective immediately, the elementary and middle schools were closed
for a couple of days as the line of cars waiting to enter West Point stretched
over a mile as individual cars were searched.
The elementary and middle school teachers couldn't make it inside the
gates until the searches ran more smoothly.
Everyone was sad, crying, as family members and friends
weren't found in the rubble of Ground Zero.
New York City police and firefighters lived in the communities around
West Point and every day there were additional obituaries for them, our local
heroes—gone, but their memories and lives printed out each day in our
newspaper.
So it went in the immediate days after September 11,
2001, but on the following Friday night, the cadets wanted to honor those who
had died and decided to do a field march in private. Word got out and those of us living there were
able to witness the beauty of their symmetry in the darkness. The next day, Saturday, there was an official
cadet field march. The sun was bright, everyone brought flags, and more were
handed out as hundreds of people entered the stands.
The West Point Band began playing marches, the 4,000
cadets marched out, company by company, with the grand, grey granite buildings
and bronze memorial statues standing sturdily as a backdrop to the perfect
precision. That perfect precision was
the therapy we all craved in a world full of fearful unknowns and unexpected
terrorism. Flags waved, tears fell, the
band played as the cadets marched past in review. "The West Point March" and
"The Stars and Stripes Forever" were two of the noteworthy marches
played that day. "The Stars and
Stripes Forever" had a very new meaning.
No one moved until the last cadet had left the field. There was a symmetry to our lives, we would
gather our strength as a nation once again.
We would get through this, but we would never forget the victims of
September 11, 2001, and how those events forever changed us.
So—upon returning home from that bike ride, I wanted to
look up John Philips Sousa and find out more about when he wrote "The
Stars and Stripes Forever". I found
the passages in the following paragraphs to be especially poignant:
In 1896, while Sousa and his wife were in Europe on a
vacation, they received word that his promoter had died. On the voyage home,
John was inspired to write "The Stars and Stripes Forever."
Sousa's band continued to tour widely, and in 1900, they
represented the United States at the Paris Exposition before touring Europe.
They toured Europe successfully three times, the first in 1900, the second in
1901, and the last in 1905. In 1910, Sousa organized a successful world tour.
Sousa joined the U.S. Naval Reserve at age 62 in 1917,
during World War I, and was given the rank of lieutenant. Following the war, he
continued to tour with his band. He fought for the causes of music education
and composers' rights, even testifying before Congress in 1927 and 1928. Over
the band's 40-year lifetime, they gave 15,200 concerts.
Conducting to the last!
After conducting a rehearsal of the Ringgold Band in
Reading, Pennsylvania, on March 6, 1932, John Philip Sousa died at the age of
77. The last piece he conducted was "The Stars and Stripes Forever."
He remains the best-known composer of band marches. He
composed 135, the most famous being Stars and Stripes, the nation's official
march.
Sousa was inducted into the Washington (D.C.) Area Music
Hall of Fame in 2002.
Barbara Bridge
MCE alto
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