My daughter Heidi just called me to tell me about her experience of watching a drum corps competition in a theater last night. The audience was so subdued, she said, she and her friends could not contain themselves. They hooted and cheered and marched and drummed along with the corps. I asked how the audience responded and she said they were okay, some people came up to them and asked which corps they’d been in.
I knew exactly how Heidi and her friends felt. We were the parents in the audience during our children’s years in Green Beret Marching Band and during Heidi and Kate’s time in Sartell’s winter guard. But being member of a guard or corps – well, I know her experience was next to ecstasy.
Wednesday at the Franciscans’ annual Green Fair in Little Falls, there was a group of women who sang old songs that immediately put me into my Aunt Gertrude’s living room with family singing as she played the piano. Standing there I sang from the back loudly, knowing all the words of the songs that go back to the early part of the last century. I was in the zone…just as Heidi and her friends were.
On July 4, Bernie and I took grandchildren to the Language Villages near Bemidji for annual festival of nations. We were thrilled when the campers marched in singing their songs in languages we did not understand. They were beaming. I asked my young adult granddaughter, Maddie, what she thought. “It is fabulous,” she said. “They will remember this forever.” I can imagine that whenever those kids hear these songs, no matter what else is going on in their lives or how old they get, they will enter the zone. And if two or more are gathered, zone power will multiply.
As Heidi and I reflected, it occurred to us that almost everyone has a memory that has zone power for them. At least I hope so. It is such a sweet gift. It has something to do with our souls.