One of my favorite movies, admittedly, is Revenge of the Nerds. In it, a fraternity of geeks takes on a fraternity of jocks for campus superiority. The nerds are battling for respect while the jocks are fighting to keep the “beautiful people” running things. At the end of the movie, the Nerds defeat the jocks in a campus competition and take over the Greek system. The jocks respond to their loss by trashing the nerds frat house. The movie ends at a pep rally, where one of the nerds is given a microphone. The head nerd gives a roaring speech about how many people might have themselves been thought of as a nerd at one time, inviting those who were to come down off the stands and join them, “No one will really be safe until nerd persecution ends.”
The one thing that always got to my friends and I during that last scene is when the entire band comes down off the stands and joins the nerds.
Why did this bother me?
Well, as you may have guessed, I and most of the friends I hung out with, were in the band. (“No, not the band,” we screamed.)
So, it was with great joy recently that I attended my sixth grade son’s first band concert. It was a wonderful evening with lots of proud parents. My son, who loves practicing on his clarinet, couldn’t get rid of his smile. He was having a good time.
After the concert, we took pictures of him and his best friend, a nice kid in the percussion section. It reminded me of me. I was in the drum section during my band years and my best friend played clarinet.
I don’t know if my son will do all of the things with band that I did. In high school, I played in marching band, jazz band, and a local orchestra. (Yes, I even went to band camp).
I hope he continues to enjoy it.
And I can relax, knowing I have successfully passed on my nerd gene to the next generation.