As the band organized and lined up; horns at the front, percussion at the back, Lisa Pollard, the band leader discovered that one of the 10 musicians didn't show up – one from the back. The family of the deceased paid for 10 band members, not nine.
She looked around and focused on me, minding my own business, camera at the ready.
"Deanne", she says, "can you do me a big favor? You're dressed in black; I need you to fill in as a band member. It won’t be hard. "
Why not? I can photograph the next procession this afternoon and this may give me a different perspective.
I agreed, focusing on the “easy” part of the assignment. She slapped an oversized band hat on me and thrust the instrument into my hands.
Traffic was stopped in all directions and off we went.
My fellow band members gave me some "on the job" training as we marched through North Beach and Chinatown with my new instrument, the gong. I had previous music lessons, but no gong lessons.
Tim on my right, played the bass drum, he gave me the vague advise to just bang the gong when I “felt like it.”“Well, at least bang on the beat.” He amended.
Vince, at my left, played the snare drum and worked with me on the marching, chanting, left, right, left and right. Then he continued with more precise directions, “Okay bang that gong now, on the beat.”
Bonggg.
“Louder!”
BONGGG.
It was so ludicrous and I was so amused that I spent half the march bonging and smiling until I remembered that this is a solemn event.
As we marched through Chinatown, people on the crowded sidewalks stopped in their tracks to watch the band and then the hearse and cars filled with family members following closely behind. A seafood delivery man stopped unloading live Dungeness crab to watch the procession and listen as the band played Amazing Grace.
Vinnie would continue to cue me when I was supposed to bang the gong telling me whether to "whack it" or "kiss it". I was getting good at this!
As we round into the depths of Chinatown the procession stops, and family members gather around the open door to the hearse.
“Now, time for your solo.” Vinnie said.
I froze. Solo? No one mentioned a solo in the contract. I'm sure I looked horrified.
“Just bang the gong each time the family bows.” He whispered.
“Okay.” I stepped up. They bowed. I gonged. I think it went pretty well as far as solos with gongs go.
The family came up to me at the end and gave me a tip, a crisp dollar bill in a lucky red envelope.
So I guess if this photography thing doesn't work out, I have a plan B.
As we round into the depths of Chinatown the procession stops, and family members gather around the open door to the hearse.
“Now, time for your solo.” Vinnie said.
I froze. Solo? No one mentioned a solo in the contract. I'm sure I looked horrified.
“Just bang the gong each time the family bows.” He whispered.
“Okay.” I stepped up. They bowed. I gonged. I think it went pretty well as far as solos with gongs go.
The family came up to me at the end and gave me a tip, a crisp dollar bill in a lucky red envelope.
So I guess if this photography thing doesn't work out, I have a plan B.
4 comments:
"So I guess if this photography thing doesn't work out, I have a plan B. "
LOL!
Love the story - thank you!
that is so funny (about you not the person who died). What a great experience and a new perspective to shoot from.
Haha!! Brilliant... You're in the band next time I play!
Sime
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