. . . converge on the University of Dayton Arena. They are from California, Washington, Oregon, Texas, Arizona Virginia, Kentucky, Georgia, Ohio, and nearly everywhere else, and they come in groups of anywhere between 30 and 60 young people with an entourage of adult coaches and technicians and parent volunteers in vans and buses and semi-trucks to put on a five to ten minute show they’ve been crafting and practicing and perfecting since August in front of thousands of indoor percussion fanatics, family and judges, once, if they’re not ready for prime time, twice, if they’re lucky, and three times, if they are among the best in the world, or at least, the best of those who made it to Dayton, an expensive, unwieldy, intensely complicated undertaking. We are here for the second year in a row to see our son play snare drum with Pulse Percussion. I watch again in awe from the spectator’s point of view, from the point of view of a proud parent. I’ve got skin in the game.
michael jarmer 