Chesty La Rue

I am a marching instructor for a local high school band. There are 250 kids in the band and each week I work with a different group, so unfortunately it’s impossible to remember every kid’s name. I tend to forget the names of the really good, well-behaved kids because well, frankly – we never have to yell at them. However, there are other kids, whose names I never forget, “Jeremy!! Stop moving!” “Matt! Pay Attention!” “Matt! Get Back to your Section!” “Leah! Move! Leah! Move! LEAH!! MOVE!!!”. And then there are others, whose names we remember for very different reasons…

This one girl approached me the other day before rehearsal and said, “Do you know my name?” And I immediately said “Yes, yes I do…but I cannot for the life of me remember it right now… let me get back to you.” She replied, “I know you know it – you said it the other week, and I was surprised.” She didn’t know why the marching instructors (there are 4 of us) would know her name. I assured her that we knew a lot more then she thought we did, and I promised I would remember her name in the next few minutes. What I did not tell her is that the reason I could not remember, nor say her name, is because the second after she asked me, my brain had one thought, “You are the one with the boobs.” This girl continued to ask all of the instructors if they knew her name, and then reported back to me and the lead instructor that, “All of the guys can remember my name, but Mingle can’t.” At which point I wanted to inform her that it was because They were MEN, and have affectionately dubbed her “Boobs McGee”. But of course, they could remember her real name when under pressure, whereas I had to fight down a fit of giggles.

I eventually did remember her real name that night, but continued to chuckle to myself the rest of the evening. And I couldn’t go near her for fear of laughing. So, I focused my energy on Matt that night and from 50 yards away yelled, “Matt! Get off the field!!” Man, that felt good…