The Brownsparg

Ben Peterson sends us news of a bad gig — spectacularly bad for one Rachel Boggs…

FORT RILEY, Kan. –

A parachutist went off course Thursday at the start of a military review and dropped feet-first into the 1st Infantry Division’s band, injuring three players.

Several thousand people watched as the man under the red, white and blue parachute landed on the 30-member band, about 50 yards off target. A gasp went up from the crowd, followed by silence as at least a dozen people rushed over to help.

“I hear, ‘Oh, expletive,’ and immediately, I hear a crash,’” said the band’s commander, Chief Warrant Officer Scott MacDonald.

The three injured band members were treated and released from Irwin Army Community Hospital. The parachutist, Scott Hallock, refused treatment at the scene.

“We know that they’re going to be all right,” said Gen. Charles Campbell, head of the Army’s Forces Command, during opening remarks.

Two tubas were destroyed, said Mike Keating, assistant chief of the post’s Fire Department. MacDonald said a trumpet was also damaged.

MacDonald said band members had been standing, waiting for the start of the ceremony and weren’t looking up. He said they didn’t hear anything except a brief rustling of the jumper’s parachute.

He hit the back row, landing feet first, MacDonald said.

Band member Sgt. Rachel Boggs was knocked unconscious and had a fractured jaw, hospital spokeswoman Lisa Medrano said. Sgt. Andrew Spinazzolla suffered minor neck and head injuries and had a fractured ankle, Medrano said. Staff Sgt. Mark Lucero sustained what Medrano called a minor leg injury.

Ben plays in the Air Force band stationed out at Scott Field. I remember hearing a few other stories out of that organization — like playing at a road-dedication ceremony in August — typical 98˚ weather — for an audience of six local dignitaries. But Ben’s contribution is more about rain than sun…

Of course, as members of a military band, one of our primary purposes is to establish a great image and reputation with the public, so we try really hard to meet everyone’s expectations. Sometimes, though, the best laid plans cannot compete with something like….weather. When we have an outdoor gig and the sky is threatening, we call our weather squadron to get a projection. We also have a “cut-off time,” a time at which we cancel the gig, because if we waited any longer for the weather to clear, we wouldn’t be able to set up in time for the scheduled show. Anyway, that was the situation a few years back. Our sponsor for the concert, a newspaper, had welcomed us with open arms and even fed us with a lovely dinner of fried chicken after a long day on the bus. When the weather changed and a storm moved in, though, the newspaper publisher kept begging us not to cancel the concert. “Let’s just wait another 20 minutes and see if it clears up,” he’s say. We’d even taken a look at the radar on this one, though, and there was no way around it….the storm was only getting worse. Over his pleading, we cancelled the show and moved on to the next town. The publisher was very upset, but what could we do? It rained all night. The next day, the front page of the paper had a picture of us sitting at a folding table, chowing down on our free dinner with the caption “BAND EATS CHICKEN AND RUNS!!” Oooof.

Another doosie: Almost everyone knows the lyrics to the chorus of “God Bless America.” Fewer know the stanza that precedes it. Members of the band know it well, though, as for years it was the first thing we played on summer concerts. The band would play and intro and the singers would join in four parts:

“While the storm clouds gather far across the sea,
Let us swear allegiance to a land that’s free,
Let us all be grateful for a land so fair,
As we raise our voices in a solemn prayer. ”

On one particular outdoor concert, there was a slim chance of rain in the evening. We checked the weather, and it looked like we were indeed just on the fringe of a system. There really are few things worse than cancelling a show and then finding out that the clouds miraculously parted for a wonderful evening in the park sans music! And so, we pressed on. The chairs, stands, mics, and speakers were all in place and ready to go at the last minute, and we hit the downbeat right on time. The band provided the intro, and the singers chimed:

“While the storm clouds gather…..”

At that moment…..a huge bolt of lightening crashed VERY close, the sky opened up in a TORRENTIAL downpour, and 55 band members scurried for cover like we were allergic to water. Our folders were ruined, our speakers were fried, and our uniforms were in need of some serious laundering….especially after some of the band decided “What the heck…” and went romping through puddles. Come to think of it, that might not have been all that bad of a gig after all!

In the paper today, McCain is accusing Obama of wanting to “surrender” in Iraq. Surrender? SURRENDER? To whom? The ghost of Saddam Hussein? Some random Sunni, or Shiite, or Kurd? To one of the families that seem to be behind the conflict in Sadr City, i.e. the Sadrs or the Hakims? Or the Hatfields or the McCoys? Isn’t that the whole problem in Iraq, that there’s nobody to surrender to even if you wanted to? There is no enemy per se, there’s just a shifting field of feuding factions.

Didn’t conservatives invent the concept of “starving the beast”? Then why can’t they see its current relevance? The beast we fight now isn’t “big government”– it’s Islamic terrorism, and every dollar paid for every gallon of gas and barrel of oil puts money into the pockets of radical Islamic terrorists. How do we starve that beast? Burn less oil. If we burn less oil, the price of oil goes down worldwide, and with it the profits that flow from Saudi princes to Wahhabi preachers, from Iranian ayatollahs to Hamas, from Ahmadinejjad to North Korean nuclear suppliers. Ride a bike. Starve the beast.

I just finished Jane Smiley’s Ten Days in the Hills, which I enjoyed, but I have to say that when the chracter Zoe at the end wonders if Cole Porter’s So In Love is in the key of e minor, or maybe d minor — well-trained musician that she is, she would know that So in Love is in a major key. It is an amazingly common misconception about Cole Porter, that his melodies are minor keyed. In fact he preferred — always — to write in major keys.

Everybody always talks about Islamic terrorists as though they’re a bunch of total crazies, but maybe if your region’s wealth is a slowly-evaporating pool of oil, world domination is not such an irrational idea. It’ll be tough selling sand at $123 a barrel.