On the Moraine, Part XXX

By Jim Thompson
HCP columnist

In order to get to Hillsboro High School, which started in the fall of 1964 for me, we have to back up to the fifth grade in Troy.  

In the fifth grade at Kyle Elementary School, band was offered. I took up the trumpet. We started out with the requirement that we practice one-half hour every day. There was a time sheet you filled out and had your parents sign each week.

After a few weeks, it was recommended that we up our practice to one hour per day. Stupidly, I came home and mentioned this. Thus, I started practicing one hour per day.  

I don’t care how bad you are at doing something, do it for an hour per day and you will get better (with one exception, see below).

When I got to the seventh grade in Troy, we had tryouts for “chairs” in the band. I was second chair in the trumpet section. Hence, when I transferred to Marshall in the middle of the seventh grade, I was pretty good.

In the eighth grade at Marshall, as we were transitioning to the Hillsboro system, Mr. Miller came out to Marshall once per week to give us music instruction, including our little band. This led to me starting, in the summer of 1964, joining the Hillsboro High School band, which met once per week for practice on the old upper practice football field. I was going to be a freshman.

This turned out to be a disaster.  

Mr. Miller had me confused with some other Thompson from years back, so he always called me “Charlie.” There were girls in the band that looked like adult women to me. Unnerving and not an unusual problem for 13-year-old boys.

And I couldn’t march and play the trumpet at the same time. No matter how much I practiced at home, I did not have the rhythm to march. This became a miserable experience.

It all came to a head one night at either the second or third football game. There were several of us in the band who had become benchwarmers because we could not march. In this particular game, Mr. Miller wanted the entire band on the field at halftime.  

He said, “Everyone on the field.” 

He looked at me, “You, too, Charlie.”  

There was a lot of laughter. I quit and withdrew into a shell which lasted for most of high school.

Adding to my misery that fall was Latin. Mrs. Mackay did a great job of teaching, I am sure. My ability to learn Latin was only slightly worse than my ability to march. So, for my freshman and sophomore years, Latin dragged me down.

Oh, I forgot to mention gym class. I was never very good at sports. Recall our bifurcated living between Troy and the McNary Farm when I was in grade school and how that kept me from joining ball teams.  

I could work on the farm like kids that weighed half again as much as me but handling any kind of ball, forget it.

So, going forward, my high school experiences will likely be light in these recollections. 

Jim Thompson, formerly of Marshall, is a graduate of Hillsboro High School and the University of Cincinnati. He resides in Duluth, Ga. and is a columnist for The Highland County Press.