The Brass Band That Played On When the Parade Turned Back

The rain started at 9:47 in the morning. Marcus heard it first. He was the youngest player in the Coldwater Brass Band. He was sixteen years old, with a large tuba. He watched the dark clouds move fast across the sky.

'This is bad,' said Dolores. She played the snare drum. She was sixty-two years old and very serious.

The Coldwater Brass Band had six players. Every year, they played in the Founders' Day Parade. It was their one big moment. But this year, the rain came hard.

At 10:15, the parade organizer, Bill, ran up to them. 'The parade is cancelled,' Bill said. 'Everyone go home.'

The other bands started to pack up. In five minutes, the street was empty. Marcus looked at Dolores. 'We practiced for four months,' Marcus said. 'And my grandmother is waiting at the corner of Fifth and Oak. She can't walk well, but she came to see us.'

Dolores picked up her drumsticks. 'I didn't practice for four months to watch television,' she said. She started to play a simple rhythm. Boom-tap-boom-tap.

One by one, the other players joined. They started to march down the empty, wet street. Their music was loud and bright. It cut through the noise of the rain. They played their full set of twelve songs.

There were almost no people. A dog watched them. One child laughed. But at the corner of Fifth and Oak, an old woman in a blue coat stood with an umbrella. She was smiling. When the band came close, she clapped her hands.

When they finished the last song, the street was silent. Then the old woman shouted, 'AGAIN!'

Dolores laughed. 'Your grandmother has very good taste,' she told Marcus. So they played one more song, just for her. Marcus felt proud. It was better than a parade.