Everyone who listens to music has music memories. Those who ever played or sang songs has very special personal memories more than the songs alone. Being a part of a group of musicians adds more dimensions for memories. Those who have been in a marching band must have memories galore--so many people, so many things to do beyond just tooting a horn or pounding a drum--being a part of a crowd on the field playing for a crowd in a stadium.
Ken Kelling has a special memory of his days in the Rogers marching band, one of those "Oh my gosh!" memories that anyone would say when he heard him tell it. Those who know Ken know he lives up to the motto in the Rogers boys locker room: "Rogers hates a quitter." Ken belonged to all kinds of extracurricular groups, gave his all, never quit, never griped, never did anything other than do his part and do his best when needed or expected of him.
Ken was on the cross country team, which was coached by Tracy Walters, a coach that pushed his athletes hard, would chew them out when they didn't push themselves in practice or meets. One Friday, the team didn't perform in practice like Walters wanted, so he made them stay longer so he could push them some more, a form of "after school punishment." Being a fall Friday, there was the unusual night a football game scheduled, and the band would be there to put on a half time show. Ken knew he had to get his horn in the band room because he had to march that night, but when he got there, it was locked! A custodian happened by, Ken asked if he would let him in, but he was told he couldn't let anyone in. What to do?
Ken knew he had to show up, because the band director, tough-rough-and-ready Bob Foster, would not tolerate any absences. Ken put on his uniform, showed up, but expected he would probably just sit in the stands and watch the band do their thing because he didn't have his horn. Foster said he had to be part of the formation because it wouldn't work if there was an empty space. Foster was sympathetic that Ken was sans horn, but appreciated a guy like him still showing up instead of staying home. So, the band marched, Ken marched with them, but with no horn in his hands or to his lips. One can only imagine how embarrassed he must have felt, marching around with the band empty handed, wondering how many people in the stands were wondering, "Hey, what's that guy doing out there with no instrument?"
The band played on, one horn-less, but the full number, still. People at Rogers in those days were a tougher, more dedicated, stick-to-it bunch. Walters didn't quit coaching his team until he felt they met his standards. Foster wouldn't let any of his bandsmen quit a marching performance, and good old reliable Ken Kelling would never have dared to not be where he was supposed to be to do what he was supposed to do. I have a personal memory of Ken and his tenacity in everything he did. I was a cross country-track teammate. I still have the memory picture in my mind of Ken running a mile around the track, never dogging his pace, always a determined look on his face, never missing a practice or meet, always cheering his teammates on.
"Rogers hates a quitter," read the locker room sign. No way would anyone at Rogers ever have a reason to hate Ken for not doing what he set out to do and what was expected of him.