I spent last weekend in Blacksburg with Emily while she took part in the Virginia Tech Honor Band program. Upon arrival on Friday, she auditioned for her position in the band. Out of all the trumpets who auditioned, Emily was selected for the best of the three bands (the "Golden Hokie Band"), and she was awarded third chair in the band (out of ten trumpets). I am pretty proud of her.
Emily loves her music. She started playing trumpet in 6th grade. She has had a private trumpet teacher ever since then, and she has excelled. Since arriving at high school, and despite a lack of support from her own band director (a topic for another day, perhaps), she has been selected for All-County Band all four years and All-State Orchestra twice. This year, she is first chair in the All-State Orchestra. She is a member of the West Virginia Youth Symphony and the Youth Symphony Wind Ensemble. She has participated in the Honor Band and "Brass in the Grass" programs at Alderson-Broaddus College. At school, she participates in the marching, concert and jazz bands. She really is good, and I do not begrudge for a moment all the money spent on private lessons and the accoutrements needed for her participation.
As anyone who follows me on Facebook knows, she is seriously considering attending West Virginia University. I cannot fault her logic: she can attend WVU on the cheap and then use her college fund to pay for graduate school. But am I ever having a hard time swallowing the fact that my daughter may be going to "that school." I have spent a lifetime loathing WVU, and the thought of my little girl attending college in Morgantown really makes my stomach churn. I was hoping that after a weekend in Blacksburg, she would come home convinced that she needed to beg, borrow or steal her way through Virginia Tech, regardless of the cost. Fortunately for me, I suppose, she maintains her practical stance on the subject.
Two weeks ago, a package arrived at my office that had been mailed from a clothing store in Morgantown. The package contained a sweatshirt emblazoned with "WVU Dad" on the front. Nothing that would have identified the sender was enclosed with the sweatshirt, and so far, no one has stepped forward to take credit (or blame) for the prank. I have inquired of most of the suspects, and no one has yet admitted to being the sender. I am dying to know who sent it to me.
A few weeks ago, Emily asked me whether I would make the trek to Morgantown to see her play if she joins the WVU Marching Band. I told her that I would consider it but that I would not miss a home game in Blacksburg in order to go to Morgantown. Then she asked if I would wear a WVU shirt to the game. Of course, I said no. I do have some pride left.
Regardless of where she goes to school, I will miss her. Thank goodness for wireless phones, text messaging and social media. I will probably wear her out.
