THE DANCE, THE BAND, THE GIRL

The junior high gym lights went out as the band teacher's voice came over the P. A. " And now, ladies and gentlemen, for your dancing enjoyment, we give you the music of Steve Brundy and the Dixicats!" A baby blue spotlight caught the bell of my Olds Ambassador trumpet as I played the first notes of Do You Know What It Means To Miss New Orleans? Slowly the circle of blue light enlarged to pick up the rest of the band.


Our drummer was Terry Coker, the toughest kid in town, who found more satisfaction in beating on his drums than on other kids. Bob Steele played clarinet. A real life cowboy, he was born on a cattle drive from Flagstaff to Williams, Arizona. Howard Clark was probably the brain of the group, an honor roll student who played on of the hottest slip horns I've ever heard. Jim Thornton played classical piano, or did until I convinced him to join our group. We were a diverse group, brought together by a common love--music.


I was the leader, mainly because the band was my idea and I put together the schedules. I conned the principal into giving us credit for the time we spent practicing, and got the key to the band room from the band teacher so we could rehearse before classes started in the morning.



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After the set ended, I was at the refreshment table, enjoying the praise of the band teacher and feeling comfortable for once at being around the principal. I was enjoying a glass of lemonade and feeling like the night couldn't possibly get any better, when it did.

" Hi Steve, " the voice said. I turned around and saw that it was Judy Ruckman, I had the same study hall she did, and although I couldn't say anything I had had a crush on her since the first day of school. " I really enjoyed your band and I think you are a really good trumpet player." She was to me at that time the most stunning thing I had ever seen. She was dressed in black, and as she spoke to me, it was as if I was transformed from a boy into a man. Thanking her, I asked if she would care for some lemonade, but she said she would rather dance.

As we moved onto the dance floor, the regular band started to play a Glen Miller medley, starting with MOONLIGHT SERENADE. That is the last song I remember from that night, even though we danced every dance for the next two hours. Her hair was brown, close cut, and soft against my cheek. She had a way of smiling that caused very pleasant sensations to course through my fifteen year old body. Although we had never before danced together, we moved in perfect unison. She was only five feet tall, but as I held her close during the slow dances, it seemed to me that God had designed her body to fit with mine.

She was a great conversationalist, knowing just the right questions to ask to bring out my youthful pride. I couldn't help feeling that I was the handsome prince, the Junior high dance was the masked ball, and Judy was my Cinderella. As the last dance of the evening was played, I asked Judy if I could walk her to her car. As we walked slowly away from the school, toward the parking lot, we found an area of the sidewalk that was shielded from view by several large shade trees. Quickly our arms were around each other, and our lips met in a kiss, a kiss that was tentative yet filled with passion and promise.

The Dixicats went to the state music festival that year, placed first in our division, and got the only trophy I ever remember winning. That was the end of Junior high, and over the summer the band broke up , as most bands do. Jim, the piano player, moved away and I never heard from him again.

With high school came different interests. Terry became the school's leading full-back. Bob Steele started making money ranching and rodeoing. Howard's spare time had to be devoted to studying to maintain his 4.0 gpa. Since we all stayed in band, we saw each other at practices---lots of practices! We practiced for marching band, Stage band, dance band, and concert band, but somehow, even with all that, it was never the same.

We saw each other at our high school reunion a few years ago. Terry Coker, the would be tough guy, became a deputy sheriff in southwest Colorado. Howard the brain went on to medical school and is a doctor on a Navajo reservation. Bob Steele, my buddy was killed when he got caught under a bull at a rodeo.

As for Judy, she and I started dating after the dance and never stopped, even after she became my wife two years after we graduated. Like any young married couple we had good times and bad times--- times when we lived on popcorn and grilled cheese, and times we ate steak and lobster. But no matter what we had or didn't have the friendship and the love was always there, right up to the horrible day we came home from shopping and she said she was going to go lay down. I heard a noise in the bedroom and when she didn't answer I rushed into the room to find my wife, dead on the floor. The doctors said that every blood vessel in her head burst at once and she was dead before she hit the floor.

Judy has been gone for many years, but when I think of her, I remember that night-- the joy, the music, the love----and I smile.