The band festival today made me a little nostalgic. I’m there watching my two granddaughters, who are 15 and 16 years old. I’m looking around at the people with band shirts on from my home town and I realize….I don’t know a lot of them! I remember the years when my own children were in the band and we went to these festivals. Wonderful fall tradition of cool mornings and warm afternoons, of trees with leaves turning red and gold in all different shades. Memories of the hamburgers grilling on the gas cookers, smoke filling the air. The great festivals we used to have at home, with all the camaraderie, and all the work! All day long stuck in a soda trailer selling cokes, and snacks to hungry band kids from all over Georgia. Wonderful wispy remembrances. I wonder where that time went? Now it’s the turn of other, younger parents to do the things that need to be done. I see a young man sitting in front of me, pony tailed and sun glasses pushed up on his cap full of life grinning at the band and the girls. He’s probably seventeen maybe. I wonder, how does it feel to be seventeen? I don’t remember. Actually, I don’t remember feeling any other way than I feel right now. Funny isn’t it? I know I’m not seventeen, but since age overtakes you a day at a time, a month, a year, you grow older and you feel as if nothing has changed. Yet you don’t remember seventeen. I see the changing of the season and the colors of the leaves and the crispness of the air and I still enjoy it so much. I just won’t enjoy it for as many more times as those young ones out there on the field today. I’ve reached my Autumn and though I still THINK I feel the same as I did back in 1967, I know I’m getting a little tired, and the body isn’t going to recover and make the comebacks like it used to. And really, I’m ok with that. I honestly am.