GCS Journal
By Kerry Ellison
June 19, 2005

Yesterday, Gulf Coast Sound did two complete run-throughs of our 2005 show, Pulse. This came near the end of a long day of rehearsing in the brutal Houston heat-96 degrees to be exact. This was an important milestone for the corps: we accomplished two full weeks before our first contest what didn't happen last year until August. This accomplishment occurred for, I think, two reasons. First, the staff came up with a great strategy for teaching drill. Since we went outside in the spring, they've been teaching us in very focused sectionals and then bringing the entire corps to the field at the end of each rehearsal to put everything together. And they've been positive and encouraging about the progress we've made in each camp. Second, every member of the corps is dedicated to learning and perfecting his or her show. I can't think of a single person who doesn't show up on the practice field without their dot books or drill sheets (with their own positions highlighted on every page) and miniaturized (and in some cases laminated) copies of their music. On the field everyone works together to understand each set and to get it right. I am proud to be a member of the section that is usually hollering, "Do it again!" and running back to the starting set.

Yesterday was also an important personal milestone. I started the GCS Journal in the fall of 2003, shortly after I joined. At the time I had every intention of marching the 2004 season. But life happened. I had two surgeries in six months and then got downsized out of the job I'd held for nearly seven years. Marching became a financial and logistical impossibility. For those of you who had been reading the journal and wondered why it just stopped, that's why. Fortunately, my life circumstances improved quickly and I returned to GCS last fall, hoping that this year I would, indeed, be marching. I got to participate in all the activities I had missed the year before. First there was the Open House, during which the staff unveiled this year's program. Then there were the holidays and a Christmas gig in Pearland. In January GCS hosted the All-Star Mardi Gras event that brought drum corps people from around the country to march in two parades for the Galveston Mardi Gras. Through February and March, the recruiting efforts of a couple of incredibly dedicated people paid off. Our numbers grew and we got some wonderful new members in all sections. In April, after a few months of working on the show music, we hit the field to learn the drill. There were a couple of performances in the spring that solidified our confidence and cohesion and gave us some powerful momentum to reach the point where we are today. The first was a concert at the Drum Corps Tigers fundraising dinner. The second was an appearance on Channel 11's early morning news show. Walton's World met up with as at Rittenhouse Baptist Church at 5 AM that day to showcase GCS in four live segments that were broadcast throughout the Houston metropolitan area. My youngest brother, whom I hadn't even told about the broadcast, called me later that morning to tell me he'd seen us.

I realized as I drove home from camp last night that through all those months of learning the music and the show, I didn't quite believe I could do it. After missing out last season, it didn't seem real that I would ever march again. I was actually afraid it was impossible for me to do so. Maybe I wouldn't be able to play the baritone as well as I had in the past or at all. Maybe I wouldn't be able to learn the music or hold my horn up. Maybe I wouldn't be able to march the kind of drills that corps march today. (The last drill I marched was a Bobby Hoffman design full of blocks, lines, and symmetry, in which you marched only one direction, forward). Maybe at my age I wouldn't be able to stand up to the considerable rigors of competitive drum corps. I couldn't imagine being able to march in the Texas summer. So I didn't have the confidence that I could make it this far. And I think that's why I didn't resume this journal until now. I didn't want to start and stop again. But I did make it this far. I know my drill and my music. My playing is respectable. And I'm finding a way to survive the intense heat. What allowed me to do all this was the unspoken message I got from everyone in the corps: that the most important thing was to show up-at rehearsal, at my own practice time at home-and that the rest would follow.

Last night after the dinner break and after about an hour of chunking through the drill, storm clouds moved in and some members saw lightening in the distance. As the wind picked up and a few drops of rain fell, the staff sent us to the opening set so we could get in at least on run-through before the heavy weather was on us. We rushed to our spots as the sky turned that greenish gray color that it does before a bad storm. The air was charged from the coming storm and the obvious sense of urgency was in every person on that field. We did our run-through. It was rough, and we have a lot of cleaning and polishing ahead of us, but the intensity of that show will stand out in my memory for a long time. All my previous anxiety dissipated as I found I was able to put more music and marching together than I had during all previous rehearsals. There were people on the field helping us correct problems as they occurred and encouraging us. There were staff and family members and friends clapping and cheering at the end of each song. And there was the wind swirling everywhere around us, lifting our flags, shaking the drum major stand and light poles, rustling through the woods beyond the back sideline, blowing up whirlwinds in the field beside the church building. For eleven and a half minutes, I felt like the energy of whole world was part of our run-through, pushing us, making it happen, making it real. After the last note, there was maybe a second of silence while it sunk in for all of us what we'd done. Then we broke for water, and I hoped that no one noticed the tears in my eyes. But today I think I probably wasn't the only one that had them.



December 27, 2003

     Gulf Coast Sound has not held rehearsals during December. I assume this is because of the holiday schedule at our practice facility, Rittenhouse Baptist Church. Nevertheless, a number of GCS activities have taken place this month. On the 6th there was a spaghetti dinner fundraiser. The GCS Fundraising Committee, David Breitweiser and Alissa VanDerKamp, did an excellent job of coordinating the event. On the 13th, Andy Jurick was kind enough to open his home for a GCS Christmas party. I actually met someone at the party, Allen, whose grandmother lived in the same town as my grandmother now lives, Galion, Ohio. I'm the kind of person who takes these things as signs. The sign in this case is that GCS is a place where I belong.

     Some members of the horn line played Christmas music at holiday events around town. I did not participate because I don't quite have my chops back or my reading skills caught up, but I will next year. I think these may have been paying gigs, so GCS earned some money and gained some exposure here in Houston. Maybe someone who happened upon the GCS ensemble is a drum corps alum who really misses marching. If so, I hope that he or she finds the GCS website and discovers this journal. Because I have something to say to that person:

     Come join us. Seriously. You are not too old to march drum corps again. There is nothing like participating, and you know it. Yes, you can go to the show over at Rice next summer. Unless you married your drum corps sweetheart, you will have to beg or bribe your spouse to go again this year. And she or he will still not know why you fall into a predictable melancholy for a few days after the show. And yes, you can watch the top six (and no more) DCI corps on PBS next Thanksgiving after gouging yourself with turkey and dressing. You will have to sneak off during the pumpkin pie. One of your guests will come in and see you sitting in front of the tube with tears in your eyes and say, "Didn't know you got so worked up over half-time." They will neither understand nor care when you tell them that (1) it's not half-time and it's not a band (2) it's just something you did when you were young, and (3) the corps you were watching just then brought back a move or tune that you always thought was incredible.

     Is that really enough? Watching alone or with people whom, although they love you, can't ever comprehend why this meant so much to you? If it's not, come march with GCS. We're right here in Houston, so you don't have to travel thousands of miles to be part of a competitive senior corps. I understand that, in addition to the terrific, dedicated musicians we already have, some very talented individuals will be joining us after the new year. The corps has big ambitions toward which it has progressed every year and will continue to do so this year. We have a rehearsal and competition schedule that will fit into your life, if you are willing to make the time. Should you really think age is an issue, consider this: drum corps is the perfect activity for people in their 30s, 40s, and beyond. For one thing, it's great exercise. Everyone tells me they lose about 20 pounds during the marching season, without dieting. For another, I've seen ads aimed at kids saying that music makes you smart. If music makes kids smart, I am willing to bet that it keeps adults smart and holds off things like Alzheimer's.

Believe me. You can march again.

(Corps Directors Note: Even if you've NEVER marched in a Corps, either because you missed out as a youth or because you're not yet old enough, please come check us out. Your age, young and old, and level of experience does not matter. All that matters is that you have the desire and drive to be the BEST that you can be. You supply the sweat and we'll supply the rest!)


November 29, 2003
     November 29 is my dad's birthday. Because I'm marching again, I remember this year that he's the one who brought me to drum corps. So I think I'll make this journal a letter to him.

Dear Dad,
     In August 1968 you took the boys and me to the first U.S. Open, which was held in our hometown, Marion, Ohio. You didn't get tickets, probably because money was tight. We watched from a field behind a chain link fence just outside the stadium on the finish-line end. I've never asked you how you found out about drum corps or why you took us the show that night, but I'd love to know. I saw only the stadium lights and the multicolored flags moving around the field. But I could hear the horns and the drums and the crowd. At the age of 10, I sensed that something magical and wonderful was taking place on that football field. The Blue Rock, from Wilmington Delaware won the show that night and drum corps became part of me. In the fall, my brother and I joined the feeder group of our hometown corps. And you became involved as a supporter, learning to take care of the ancient equipment, driving bus, and helping remodel the old National Guard armory the corps had just bought as its headquarters. When we aged into the Cadets, you became the head quartermaster. You could solder a broken bugle, extract a jammed mouthpiece, rebuild a rotor valve, change a drumhead, and sew a button on a uniform. And you continued your additional duties as bus driver and corps carpenter. You never marched, but you clearly loved drum corps as much as anyone ever who did and contributed as much to any success our corps enjoyed. You dedicated yourself to making every member respect the privilege of using the corps' instruments. During your tenure, no brass player ever touched a horn without putting on a pair of gloves.

     I thought I'd take your birthday as a chance to tell you that, after missing it for years, I've finally found my way back to drum corps. Last month, I joined Gulf Coast Sound. GCS is starting its third year of existence and its first year as a competitive corps. I'm not coming in exactly on the ground floor, but I still feel like I get to be part of launching something that could be phenomenal. I think you'd be impressed with GCS. For one thing, because it's senior corps, everyone must make the time for it, despite families, jobs, and other adult responsibilities, so I know that I am marching with people who absolutely know they want to be in the drum corps. Another thing you'd like is that the corps leaders are members. They know first-hand that how the corps' business is run affects what we are on the field, because they are right there with us (and, I'm certain they wouldn't have it any other way). Oh yeah, I don't know the people in GSC very well yet, but I'm getting the idea that they are as wonderfully insane as any drum corps people you or I have ever known.

     Drum corps has changed a lot since we stood outside the end zone at the 1968 U.S. Open. But when it comes to the day-to-day life in a corps, it's pretty much the same. For example, the equipment man still has important role in the corps. As the kid of an equipment man, I'm embarrassed to admit this, but during my first rehearsal I dropped my GCS-issued horn and creased the bell badly. It made me sick. Every time I held the horn up to play, I had to see it and it made me feel like the biggest goober alive. But GCS didn't run me off. Instead, several people told me that they have a great equipment man who can do amazing things. I haven't met him, and I haven't seen his work, but if he's as good as you were then that horn will be beautiful the next time I put on my gloves and (very, very carefully) pick it up.

     It hasn't been easy between you and me. We avoid each other and have a difficult time talking with and being around each other. I don't know why this is and I'll bet you don't either. But I do know that you and I share a deep connection when it comes to least one thing: our love for drum corps

Happy Birthday. Come see us rehearse sometime.

Love, Kerry


November 15, 2003
     Today was my first rehearsal with Gulf Coast Sound (GCS) Drum and Bugle Corps. When I arrived at Rittenhouse Baptist Church, I met Jason Rose, the corps director, and Marc Sanders, the assistant director, who gave me a bugle (with three vertical valves!!!) to use and a pair of gloves. Then I found a spot among the baritones. That spot, it turns out, was on a mat that was one of the only authorized locations for emptying spit valves. (The church allows us to rehearse in their newly carpeted and new upholstered sanctuary, so we are careful.) Even with the spit mat, I was thrilled to once again have place in the arc of a drum and bugle corps brass section. Craig Gardner, the brass caption head, led us in an extensive warm-up, and then a run through of the 2004 book. After that we went to the parking lot for marching instruction from Dena Anderson, the visual caption head. She said to us, "Yes, we are a small corps, but we can march and play aggressively and with pride." That seems to be the attitude of everyone involved with GCS as it launches its first year as a DCA competitor.

     After marching instruction, which was somewhat limited by rain, we returned to the sanctuary for sectionals, during which we crawled through the first half of the opener, Summertime. It became clear to me that GCS has fine musicians in the low brass section. Some have many years with drum corps, both junior and senior. Others bring impressive credentials from college and high school band programs. Most have experience in both corps and band. By the end of the sectional practice, we started to get a nice sound, and for me it was a joy to be part of an ensemble that can achieve that in just a couple hours. After dinner, and some more sectional work, the sopranos and mellophones returned to the sanctuary and the drumline joined us try the opener and few other tunes. Putting a piece together with the full corps for the first time is always exciting, even when you are tired and you barely have any chops left. As we wrapped up, Jason said that we'd made excellent progress on this, the first full-day rehearsal of GCS.

     Today was also my first day as a drum corps member since the 1976 DCI Finals in Philadelphia. My corps, the Marion Cadets, did not make finals although we'd had perhaps our best season ever. So we were there at Franklin Field as spectators. I did not know on that warm August night when, or if, I would see another drum corps show. I was off to college in the next month and there would no longer be room in my life for drum corps. We stayed until the scores were announced: the Blue Devils won their first of 12 DCI championships. Although I wanted my beloved Santa Clara Vanguard to win, the Blue Devils put on a performance that was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. My fellow corps members and I then had to make our way to the buses for the trip home, but I wished that we had been allowed to stay until the Blue Devils played their very last note. As I walked from the stadium through the shadowy parking lot, the music from inside under the banks of bright lights grew fainter and fainter, yet more beautiful. Probably every kid for whom that was their last night of drum corps, whether they walked out with the audience like I did or marched out as a finalist, left part of himself or herself on that field. I suppose that's what's behind the tradition of the age-outs' leaving their shoes on the field. (Do they still do that?) For some of us, drum corps is a love that we never get over and don't want to. By the end of my first rehearsal with Gulf Coast Sound, I knew that I was among such people.