"The language of friendship is not words, but meanings." 

--Henry David Thoreau

How does one even begin to define a friendship?  With what words?!?  

The people pictured above have shaped my life.  They have helped sculpt me into what I am today.  I owe them a debt of gratitude.  Maybe this post will be a small down-payment toward what I feel I owe to them.

Left to Right, after me....

Chad Faison.  Mobile, Alabama.

I met Chad Faison in December 1991 when I auditioned for Southwind.  We weren't terribly close simply because I played mellophone and he played baritone.  The dude is an insanely talented graphic artist--he designed our tour shirt for the 92 season.  Wish I still had mine.  I'm not sure Southwind means more to anyone than Chad.  He was involved with the Montgomery version of the corps as well as the Kentucky version, if I remember right.  He's also an alum of Atlanta CorpsVets, an all-age DCA corps.  Chad personally ensures that all our brass instruments work and he teaches our baritones.  He's a band director, like most of us, and at one time, he ran the art program at Fairhope High School, as he has a bachelors degree in art.  Chad and I have taught at Southwind since Dave Bryan brought us in in 2014.  He's also a pretty great Cards Against Humanity player as well.

Dell Trotter.  Gulfport, Mississippi

I met Dell when he came on board in 2015.  I was the caption head at the time.  It didn't take long for me to realize Dell would make a better caption head than I, and I openly admit that, and told him as much.  He's a heck of a teacher.  Dell and I have so many similarities....children...working at community colleges....we're basically the same age, although he will tell you I'm WAY OLDER.  We hit if off real quick in 2015 and when the corps decided to change caption heads for 2016, we became even closer, I think.  No telling how many cups of coffee we drank at Starbucks in 2015 when the corps stayed at McGill-Toolen.  When Chad and I were marching Southwind, Trotter was on the field with Spirit of Atlanta.  I remember Spirit's show that year well.  Those hot pink bodysuits the color guard wore....whoa.  But I digress.  

Michael Roy.  Foley, Alabama

I have only known Roy since last December.  Roy was in the 2008 Phantom Regiment...the year they won it all playing Spartacus.  Wow, what a show.  Roy works at Foley High School and he teaches Southwind's baritones with Chad.  He's a giver, having offered to keep some of my gear at his house for a while once after a camp when I was on my motorcycle.  

Don Bell.  Laurel, Mississippi

Don Bell....this guy is as quick-witted as they come.  Just about everything he says is hilarious.  He teaches our mellophones.  Don went to Southern Miss and lives in the same town that my dad was from.  He works at one of the more successful band programs in MS, Petal High School and was a member of Forte.  Don joined the Southwind staff in 2016.  He was there for the infamous water break teaching fiasco.  He stood by me, though, through it all, and I haven't forgotten it.  Lite ice.  Always lite ice.  LOLOL.  

Aaron Fiveash.  Southaven, Mississippi.  

A-A-Ron also joined the staff in 2016.  He taught mellophones with Don that year, but has helped me with the trumpets since.  AARon and I have been through a lot of crap together.  We've had 6.02 X 10^23 conversations about stuff ranging from, well everything to everything else.  Aaron and I both were taught by Jim Zingara, although at different universities.  We both were affiliated with Teal Sound, though at different times.  He won a world championship with Memphis Sound.  Like Don, he  counseled me through WaterBreakGate 2K16.  I owe you buddy.  Oh, cereal is a soup. 

Bethany Presley.  Bay Minette, Alabama

Bethany (Queen Bea) came on board for the 2019 season.  She's just about done with her music education degree from Auburn--War Eagle!  She was a member of Pioneer in 2014.  Bethany teaches the trumpets with me and A-A-Ron.  She quickly fell right in with our merry band and has been on the entire tour this summer with the hornline.  She's been running the upper brass section the last couple weeks of tour, and is doing a great job with that.  #BrassStaff!

Ashton "Tuba" Cain.  Orlando, Florida

Ashton was a tuba player at Teal Sound in 2012 when I taught there...they year Teal folded.  What a hard time that was.  Ashton went to college at Berklee College of Music in Boston, and his apartment was next-door to Victor Wooten.  Lawd.  He joined us in 2018 as a tuba/baritone instructor. One thing about Ashton is that he is going to crack you up.  Even without saying anything.  But he's dead-serious about music, and he's a heck of a bass-guitar player.  I mean, bruh went to Berklee!

Daniel Herndon.  Hattiesburg, Mississippi.

Last but certainly not least is Herndon.  Weighing in at 104 pounds soaking wet, Herndon will kill you in breathing block. Like DOA.  He teaches the mellophones with Don, although on this summer's tour, he's basically been running the entire low brass section, and is doing a killer job with that.  Back in February, he and Bethany and I went up to do an audition clinic at Jacksonville State University.  One thing I remember about that trip was that neither of them had been to Mount Cheaha before, so I took them.  Herndon studied music education at Southern Miss and took lessons from Jacqueline Adams, who I know from the PSO.  

There are others I've taught with at Southwind who aren't staff this season, but are still Southwind.  Jorge Alarcon, Ryan Lastrapes, Colleen Hulihan, and even Nathan Shuffitt, who is now our visual caption head have taught the horns in the past.  

We've piled in the car to go get food at random burger and BBQ joints all over the gulf coast.  We've taught in tiny classrooms and huge gyms.  We've wondered why the horns were on the 15.  We've slept on air mattresses on the floors of more schools than we can name.  We've walked miles and miles around football fields all over the United States telling kids both the good and the bad of their playing.  We've watched our respective kids grow up (those of us that have kids).  We've laughed with each other, and most definitely at each other.  We've shared struggles in personal life and professional life.  We've helped rebuild a drum corps that has meant the world to so many alumni and fans.  We've grown together as teachers and as people.  

There is no way in the world I'd trade anything for any of the experiences I've been afforded through the people in the Southwind organization.  The people are always at the heart of the drum corps experience.  The people who you get to create art with.  The people who refine your skills through their own skills.  Those people are priceless and they make the experience priceless.  I struggle to remember tour sites.  I struggle to remember how the opener was in its original version.  No way I can tell you what the opening set looked like in 2018 or any other year.  But I can guarantee you that I remember the people.  In fact, I'll never forget them.

In that picture is nearly 100 years worth of teaching experience.  In that picture are three DCI world champions. In that picture is a wealth of musical experience.  But more importantly, in that picture are eight people I'd do anything for.  

Hey, let's do it again in 2020.  You hear me, guy?  

"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings.  Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"

--Percy Bysshe Shelley, "Ozymandias"

Bev Smith taught this poem in ENG 262, English literature II, when I took it 25 years ago.  I have no recollection of whether or not I did well on that exam,  nor do I have any idea why it suddenly popped into my head while out walking recently.  I must have stored it in my subconscious during class. 

Shelley was an atheist.  This wasn't uncommon during the Romantic period of English literature--the Romantics thought nature was God.  Romantic era literature, painting, and music all depict this intense love for the natural world, so it isn't really accurate the say Shelley was an atheist, for, as David Foster Wallace puts it,  "everyone worships something."

And it's in "Ozymandias" that Shelley comments on mankind's most often-worshiped god:  SELF.

The poem goes like this:

I met a traveler from an antique land

Who said: Two vast, and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert.  Near them, on the sand

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed;

And on the pedestal these words appear:

"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

So Ozymandias (Ramses II) makes some giant, stone monument to himself and sticks it out in the Egyptian desert for all to see.  To show how great he is.  To make himself the center of the universe...or at least the amount of the universe that he knew about. Ok.  

Looking back on Egypt and its greatness through the lens of 2019, it is easy for us to just shake our head at the audacity of the pharaohs.  Where you at now, Ozy?? Huh??? What then???  

But we do the same thing, don't we?  Look around....humanism everywhere!  Monuments. Skyscrapers.  Statues of coaches who haven't even retired yet.  Buildings on campuses with peoples' names plastered on the outside in 12" letters.  I've even joked with Greg Aplin before about having such success with the Ensemble that the only thing left to do is decide what font we want our names in when they rename the Dixon Center after us.  Of course, that's all in jest, but it speaks to two things that live in our deepest heart of hearts:  we like to feel important, and we want to be remembered. 

The fact that this blog even exists in the first place indicates that I think people care what I think.  That I'm of some importance.  I might be.  But I'm probably not.  One day when I was a band director, I missed a couple day of school due to sickness.  The day I went back to work, Mrs. Henderson said to me "Mr. Brewer, I didn't even notice you were gone."  That was humbling.  And it speaks the real truth: none of us is THAT important in the long run.  

In the poem, right after the line "look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair," something amazing happens:  Shelley basically says "hold my beer."  Boom.  The next line:  "nothing beside remains."  Nothing.  Nothing but a colossal wreck.  The greatest ruler in the history of the Egyptian empire became nothing.

 He wanted to be eternal, and yet he was reduced to a broken statue, half-covered by barren sand standing in a desert commemorated by a poet who most 

people reading this probably don't remember studying in an

 English class taught by someone who's now dead. 

All that "greatness" reduced to nothing because of too much self.  Too much self because of too much pride.  And pride goes before a fall.  So I'm going to work on being less prideful because I don't want to be like Ozymandias--relegated to being remembered ONLY when someones opens a literature textbook in a class they won't even realize the significance of until years and years later.  

God Bless.