I promised this story in a previous blog post. At the time, I called it A Mello, A Volleyball, A Plane and A Parent. This story is all true.
When people ask me about my family and the kind of upbringing I had, which happens often as we move through the adoption process, I always tell them that I was lucky to grow up in a family where supporting each other was of the utmost importance. My parents were very involved in our lives and it wasn't until I was in college that my parents actually missed the first high school marching band performance that any of us (me, and my sisters) were participating in. The reason for their absence? They were attending an awards dinner for first generation college students as my guests.
They took their obligation to support their children seriously, and it is something that I am forever grateful for and hope to be able to emulate with as much grace and good will as they did. Being on the road at 6 am for a State Fair Band Day performance,and then coming to pick us up when the buses rolled back into the school parking lot at 3 am the next morning takes a special kind of dedication.
When I want to provide a specific illustration about how dedicated my parents were in supporting their kids, I always tell this story. It didn't happen to me, but to my sister, but there is really no better way to explain what my parents would do for us girls.
In a high school marching band like ours, any kid who wanted to participate could. For the musicians, there were no auditions, and no one was held back as an alternate to fill spots later in the season. Everyone marched. And that included the few handful of fall athletes (football, cheerleaders, and volleyball) as well. One of those was my youngest sister, who, in addition to playing the mellophone (marching French Horn), also played volleyball.
Her senior year, both groups were doing exceptionally well throughout the year. The band was getting the highest scores at contests and the volleyball team was state ranked. As the season dwindled down and the stakes for each contest got higher, my sister, the band director and the volleyball coach had a decision to make.
The state marching band finals happened to fall on the same day as the regional volleyball tournament. Marching band was in Indianapolis and volleyball was in Kendallville. Marching band was to end at Noon, and volleyball was to begin at 1:00 pm. The distance between the two sites was 143 miles.
No car could legally make the trip between the two points in the hour allotted. Now, normal people would tell her that she would just have to make a choice. After all, life isn't supposed to be easy and will be filled with choices. Adults make these decisions all the time.
But was that what my parents believed? Well, they always reminded me that life wasn't fair. And they encouraged me to make well-reasoned decisions. But in this case, they didn't care for the contemporary logic.
Their youngest daughter had worked very hard at her chosen activities. She didn't miss practice or class. She kept her grades up. She should be rewarded for her dedication to both volleyball and marching band. She should reap the rewards that she'd worked so hard for all season. So my parents did the only thing a person could do.
They chartered an airplane.
Now, my parents aren't poor by any stretch of the imagination, but they aren't, to borrow from the current vernacular, the 1% either. They are solidly middle class. And they decided that if a car couldn't get her from one event to the other in time, then they'd just have to get a plane to do it.
Tracy marched that day and stayed on the field as awards were announced. As soon as they had awarded the top trophy, she sprinted off with a stadium worker to the south airlock where she met Mom, Dad and Grandma. I remember standing on Pan Am Plaza with Tami (my middle sister) and waving as their car sped down the road to the general aviation gate at the Indianapolis International Airport where my Dad put Tracy, Mom and Grandma on the plane to the Kendallville Municipal Airport. Like a dignitary, her plane was met by the Principal of the high school who then drove all three of them to the gym where the volley ball tournament was just moments away from getting underway.
My dad followed in his car, getting there in time for the final set.
I know that I don't thank my parents enough for being the parents and people that they are and providing for me in all ways. And someday soon, I hope that they, too can reap the benefits of their efforts throughout the years, and hear the excited cries of "grandma and grandpa!" ringing through the halls.
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