The easy rhythms and gentle mockings of a longtime partner

I met my wife 40 years ago.

Or roughly 40 years ago. I can tell you our first date was March 1, 1986, which is almost 40 years ago. But we knew each other before that.

Sort of.

We were in the same second-period study hall at Wickliffe High School, and we spent those study halls hanging out in the band room. This was a nice privilege for band members, as it beat the heck out of sitting quietly in Room 111 doing homework or reading.

At that point, Terry's time in the band and my time had overlapped for three semesters, but we hadn't really talked much. I wasn't in marching band (just concert and jazz bands) and she was. So our paths didn't cross with any regularity until those study halls.

The details are fuzzy, but I know I started looking forward to those second-period sessions because I knew I would get a chance to talk to her.

One time another girl in the band with whom I had been somewhat involved (I'm not even sure that's the right word) sat down on my lap while a group of us were talking. Terry looked over at us with a raised eyebrow, and I made a face to communicate that I wasn't happy with girl #2 doing this.

I remember Terry smiling back so only I could see.

I have documented here the process by which we actually became a couple, so no need to go into that. You can click the link if, for whatever reason, it interests you.

What I will say is that I so enjoy our life together. It's four decades' worth of shared experiences, from marriage and kids to buying houses, building a nest egg, and mourning the deaths of our parents.

And now we're learning to be grandparents. I'm almost embarrassed to tell you how often Cal is our main topic of conversation (It's a lot...a whole lot.)

We live day to day as 50-somethings who are blessed to have four of our kids living close, family members and neighbors we love, and sufficient resources to travel and do other things we enjoy.

I rate it 5 stars, no complaints.

Being together for 40 years or more creates a sort of rapport and routine you can't just make up. It evolves organically over time.

At night, after I shower, I come into the living room and sit on the opposite end of our sectional couch from her. It's not that I'm trying to distance myself, it's just that that's...well, it's my spot, you know? She has her place and I have mine, and together we'll watch TV and laugh at most of the same things.

She often makes fun of me, and the way she does it is always funny. She knows me, including the less-than-flattering parts, and that's OK.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

I don't know how much longer we'll be blessed to have this life together. It could go on for another 40 years, or it could end tomorrow. You just never know.

And again, that's OK.

It has already been far more than I could ever have imagined, and certainly more than I deserve.

Even I know something like that doesn't come along every day.

In defense of marching band

Photo credit: Mrs. Terry Tennant

"This one time at band camp" jokes aside, there is much to be said for high school marching bands.

They create a special atmosphere at Friday night football games. They perform at halftime, play the fight song after touchdowns, and bring an air of excitement to the proceedings as they march into and out of the stadium.

Just as important, though, is what the band – as both a school organization and a social ethos – does for its members.

For many, band is their strongest and sometimes only real connection to the school. They don't necessarily fit elsewhere, but when they get together with their peers in the band room, they feel at home.

Band kids are their people.

I was and wasn't a band nerd. I played the saxophone, but I never marched a routine in my life. Because I also played football, I was excused from marching band and wouldn't pick up my instrument until November when football season ended and we started rehearsing Christmas music.

So I never experienced the family atmosphere that is perhaps unique to marching ensembles.

It took having five kids (all of whom spent at least some time in marching band), a heavily involved wife and a now-10-year stint as the Wickliffe Swing Band announcer for me to really understand it all.

Every high school band endures its share of derision from other students, but that is perhaps less true at Wickliffe. The Swing Band is well regarded within the school and around our community, so its members are maybe a notch or two higher on the social scale than they would be in other places.

Still, in the end, a band geek is a band geek. Most of them gladly wear the title and wouldn't trade their high school band experience for anything.

For more kids than you may realize, band is the one thing that gets them through four otherwise miserable years of high school.

So go ahead and make fun of their weird hats, the corny songs they play and the faux military discipline on display at every performance. Call them whatever you want.

They're too busy playing loudly and proudly to even hear you.

I recently had my second bout with Covid...still zero stars, do not recommend

Terry and I both contracted Covid back in January 2021 and were down and out for a solid week. I was kind of hoping that would be my one and only experience with it.

But the virus was nice enough to mutate and hit me again last month. And once again, it took a solid week (and then some) for me to come back. This time, for good measure, I also experienced the loss of taste and smell I had somehow avoided with the first go-round.

Everyone who gets Covid seems to have somewhat different experiences. For me, both times it has been a combination of a nasty head cold with flu-like symptoms that have included fever/chills and a general feeling of extreme "blah," if you know what I mean.

Sickness of any type tries my patience. I simply don't have time for illness, which is why, by day #3 of Covid the Sequel, I was antsy and annoyed. I had work to do. I was missing PA announcing gigs and the income that goes with them. I got tired just cleaning a single toilet, let alone an entire bathroom.

When I get sick, I don't become self-pitying so much as bitter and angry. I HAVE NO TIME FOR THIS.

Speaking of PA announcing, the previous weekend's assignments are likely where I picked up this latest round of Covid. That Friday I had announced a Wickliffe football game, and the next day I did both college volleyball at Cleveland State University and a band festival in the nearby town of Solon.

At some point during one of those events, some attendee unknowingly shared the virus with me. I'm all for sharing, but you can keep this particular gift to yourself, Patient Zero.

I will go way out on a limb to give you this expert medical opinion: Covid sucks. Do not get it.

Learning (finally) to appreciate the memories while you're still making them

Thank you, Ron Kotar, for one of my favorite shots of drum major Jack!

We are in the midst of a 10-week period during which Friday nights in our family can only be described as chaotic.

For many years now, our Friday evenings from late August through the end of October have revolved around high school football games and halftime band performances. All of our kids have been members of the Wickliffe Swing Band at one point or another, and my son Jared also kicked for the football team for three years.

At the very least, that has meant hastily consumed dinners, getting kids to the school on time before a game, and dressing up in our finest Blue Devil gear.

But this year the chaos—I can think of no other appropriate word—has ratcheted up by a factor of about 10. To wit:

• Jack, who is enjoying his senior year victory lap, is both co-drum major and band president. These roles encompass a lot, not the least of which is trotting out to the center of the field at halftime along with his fellow drum major Clare, flinging a baton high into the air, and trying to catch it when it comes back down. All with 90% of people in the stadium watching the two of them. I don't know how nerve-wracking it is for Clare and Jack, but it's terrifying for me.
  
  
• Terry, who has long volunteered her time to the Swing Band, has taken her involvement this year to a new and presumably unprecedented level ("unprecedented," at least, in Wickliffe band history). She is not only in her second year as Band Booster president and her ninth year as chair of the uniform committee, she also recently took on the official title of "assistant director." Like, she's now an official Wickliffe City Schools employee and everything. It is risking gross understatement to say she is invested in the success of this ensemble.
  
  
• My Friday night contributions pale in comparison with Jack's and Terry's, but I'm in my ninth year as the Swing Band announcer as well as my first year as the full-time Wickliffe football PA announcer. The poor people who come to our games cannot escape the reach of my voice without running to their cars and driving home.

So fall Fridays are a production. They're also fleeting. If Wickliffe doesn't make the state football playoffs this year, after tonight we only have six games to go. Then, just as suddenly as it began, it will be over.

This time next year, Jack will be in college. Terry may or may not continue her involvement with the band, but it will be at a scaled-back level if she does. And while I still plan to announce, it won't feel quite the same as it does this year.

All of which is why I'm enjoying every second of this season. You would think, with five children (four of whom are out of high school and in their 20s), I would have learned long ago how quickly it all passes and to appreciate it. But until this year, I really hadn’t.

For the past decade and a half, we've always had at least one child at the high school, with the promise of more to come. Even last year we knew Jack still had his senior season ahead. So I just jumped from one event to the next without ever stopping to take in the moments and savor each one.

Now, with something of a life transition staring us in the face, I find myself pausing on Friday nights and just looking around. I listen to the crowd. I watch Jack march. I observe Terry in her element, doing everything she can to make sure the band is put in the best position to succeed. And I smile at all of it. I take a breath and acknowledge what a special time this is for us.

And how, in no time at all, it will have passed us by.

As recently as a month ago, I dreaded the thought of it ending. But now I don't really mind that much. Just being present in the moment and knowing it's a memory in the making changes the whole dynamic. It will end, yes, but that's OK. It's special BECAUSE it's going to end.

At the beginning of every halftime show, I get to announce Jack's name as co-drum major and Terry's name as assistant director (she's only just now getting comfortable with me doing that...not much of a spotlight-seeker, that one). Even counting upcoming band festivals, there are fewer than 10 such opportunities remaining.

With each one, I lean into "Jaaaaaaaaaack Tennaaaaaaant!!!" and "assistant director MRS. Terry Tennant!" just a little bit more.

What an incredible blessing this has been. And still is. And always will be.

The last go-round

 

The bandana'ed trumpet player pictured above is my son Jack. He is 16 1/2 years old (just had his "half birthday") and on the verge of his senior year in high school.

School doesn't officially start for another two weeks, but parents of kids who do fall extracurriculars know how this works. Jack is in band and runs cross country, both of which have been practicing for a month. His senior year started in earnest four weeks ago.

Terry and I have of course known this was coming for a long time. We've been through the senior experience with our four oldest kids and loved all of it. And we figured we would love it when Jack got to this milestone.

We'll do that, of course, but this time it's different. Jack is our youngest. Just as everything with Elissa was a "first" so many years ago, everything with Jack is a "last." Last cross country and track season, last marching band season, last first day of school, etc.

There is every reason to celebrate what is sure to be a fun 12th-grade year for a kid who does so well in school, plays the heck out of his trumpet, is serving as co-drum major and band president as well as a class officer, and is generally one of the funniest and fun-to-talk-with people I know.

It is, as they say, all good.

Yet there's something about the finality of it that is only just now starting to hit me. For a long time there was always more to come. A Tennant kid graduates? Yay! We'll do it again with the next one. Year after year, we had kids in Wickliffe sports and band.

But this is the final lap. And it's starting to smack me right in the feels.

We've had kids in Wickliffe Schools continuously since 1999. Before that, Terry and I were Wickliffe students ourselves. And before us, our siblings were also Blue Devils, stretching all the way back to 1963 in my family's case.

When Jack walks across that stage and picks up his diploma next May, it all comes to an end. It's not a tragedy or anything, of course, but it is bittersweet.

And I didn't necessarily expect that.

Terry and I are enjoying the semi-empty-nest life, believe me. We've put in much time and effort over the years ensuring that our kids' various activities provided the best experience possible, and that they themselves learned what they needed to learn to become independent, accomplished adults. You never "stop" being a parent, but the idea of moving into the next phase of our lives is alluring.

Yet...as I said, there are seriously mixed feelings.

If I were someone trying to make me feel better about this whole thing, I would say something like, "Hey, you have to enjoy it! No need dwelling on the negative side. Celebrate it! Live in the moment!" Which is spot on, though it doesn't remove the specter of every event, every accomplishment and every experience being the last of its kind for our family.

It's all about attitude, I suppose. And I'm going to do my best to embrace individual moments as they come. "The end" is really more a transition than a full stop. It's inevitable, and it doesn't have to be a bad thing.

It just got here a little faster than I anticipated, is all.

As hobbies go, sports PA announcing is a strange but fun one

The high school sports season has kicked off here in Northeast Ohio, though I generally refer to it as "announcing season."

I have picked up a variety of public address announcing gigs these last few years, mostly through Wickliffe High School. It all started with the Wickliffe Swing Band, whose announcer I became back in 2014 (making this the start of my eighth season on the mic for this great institution). In subsequent years I've taken on Blue Devil boys and girls soccer, volleyball, and boys and girls basketball.

All of that, in turn, has led to separate engagements announcing for the Mentor Ice Breakers hockey team; Lake Erie College; University School; Perry, Mayfield, and Riverside high schools; and even a Division I men's college basketball game for Cleveland State University.

I've often said that PA announcers are much like football linemen: In ideal circumstances, you don't even realize they're there. Our job as announcers is to enhance the experience for both fans and players, all while staying out of the way and melting into the background.

The kids are and always will be the show. Just as no one comes to the ballpark to watch an umpire call balls and strikes, no one buys a ticket to hear the guy talking over the public address system.

That doesn't mean we don't do our jobs without enthusiasm. These kids who work so hard on their chosen sports deserve robust introductions and verbal recognition of their achievements. The trick is to balance energy with restraint.

The best I've ever seen and heard doing that was the late Ray Milavec, who taught, coached, and announced at Wickliffe for decades before passing away in 2016. He was a master at the craft, if you want to call it that.

Between now and mid-October, if all goes as planned, I will have announced something on the order of 40 total volleyball matches and soccer games, not to mention halftime band performances and miscellaneous band festivals. I also run the scoreboard for girls soccer.

And I can't tell you what a privilege it is to do all of it. I get a little sad when fall sports end, but six or so weeks later I'm back at it doing basketball, which makes for a very fun winter.

Some people collect stamps. I strive to pronounce kids' names correctly into a microphone. To each his own.

What we did right with each of our kids - Part IV - Melanie

(NOTE: Parents are forever lamenting the things they wish they had done differently with their children. "I should have been more strict about this" or "I wish I had let her participate in that." That type of stuff. I see nothing productive there, so instead I choose to celebrate the things that Terry and I appear to have done well with our children. Plus, it's a good way to fill five days of blog posts. So there's that.)

My daughter Melanie is 16 years old and right on the verge of getting her driver's license. This does not scare me at all, in part because I've been through this before with three other kids, and in part because it's just so convenient having a child who can drive herself places.

But part of me will always think of Melanie as the four-year-old version of herself. She had this great little haircut that just screamed "CUTE!" And in fact everything she did and everything she said screamed "CUTE!" I love the current Melanie, but as parents do, I will always keep a piece of Little Tiny Melanie in my heart.

There is, incidentally, some variation in her name within our household. She is officially "Melanie," but I usually call her "Mel." And when she was a baby, Terry and I took to calling her "Melanie Moo," which somehow eventually morphed into "Schmoo." I don't know why.

Anyway, sticking with our theme this week, I'm here to tell you five things we did right with this particular child, so here they are:

(1) We let her be the baby of the family for a while. I used to think this was kind of a bad thing. Mel was the baby for so long before Jack showed up that she was treated like the baby for a long time after she had grown out of that role. Her siblings did a lot of things for her and we didn't push her especially hard. But now that I see her maturing into such a bright, goal-driven young woman, I realize we didn't do her any permanent harm. Let little kids be little kids for a while, I guess is the moral here.

(2) We're not forcing her to be in band just because everyone else in the family is/was in band. At this point it's iffy whether Mel, who quit band after her freshman year, will return to it next year as a junior. There's a part of me that wants her to, since I was a bando, my wife was a bando, and so were Elissa, Chloe and Jared. And Jack currently plays the trumpet. But if it's not something she particularly enjoys (and I don't think it is), why force it? She can make her own decision here, as far as I'm concerned.

(3) We let her go to concerts from a fairly young age. For whatever reason, I didn't go to my first rock/pop concert until I was 18 years old (February 1988, Sting, Cleveland Public Hall...what a show). Mel has been going to concerts since her very early teens. Live music is a fun and exciting experience, and going with just her friends teaches her to navigate large venues and downtown streets. Not bad things to know.

(4) We let her have a boyfriend. All three of my girls have what you might call long-term boyfriends, and I like all three of them. They're good guys, which I think is because my girls have good heads on their shoulders and can make wise decisions when it comes to dating. I've never understood the "you're not dating until your xx years old" rule some moms and dads impose, but then again, I don't claim to be the perfect parent. I just think my girls are learning the basics of healthy relationships by being allowed to engage in their own while still young adults.

(5) We forced her to share a room with her sister Chloe. This isn't really a hardship, since Chloe lives at the University of Akron most of the time. But you know, it's not going to kill you to learn to compromise and share a living space with someone else from time to time. Now if we can just teach Mel not to leave moldy food, unwashed clothes and various papers all over her floor, we would be getting somewhere...