Strike up the band

I had dinner with a wonderful old friend of mine last night.

When P's not running the Centre for Foreign Policy and Trade, he relaxes by attending Band Camp.

Once a year, guys just like him -- professionals, doctors and lawyers -- pull out their baritones, saxes and clarinets, and head north to Band Camp.

For four glorious, uninhibited days, they take classes together, jam together and then perform in front of an audience of their peers. P. plays the piano...and he's awfully good at it.

For guys like him, who spend their days negotiating the finer points of government trade policy, it's a chance to do something gloriously free again.

It makes him happy.

Knowing what makes you happy is so important that we often ignore it completely.

P. told me about one of his instructors at Band Camp -- a happy guy in his own right.

Seems this guy was enlisted by a Rosedale matron to surprise her husband on his 80th birthday.

She wanted to make him happy.

She asked the musician if he couldn't help surprise her husband by allowing him to fulfill his dream -- leading a marching band.

"Serious?" he asked.

"It's his biggest dream," she assured him. "Something he's always wanted to do."

So the musician went about getting together about a dozen of his friend. Sadly, it's not that difficult to find unemployed musicians in this town.

The musician told them about the birthday boy's wish and thought they should set up a little scenario.

They'd march into his party as a group, then wander aimlessly around the party while playing woefully badly until they spotted the guest of honour.

The leader would point to the group and say, "We need a leader. Does anyone know anyone who can lead a marching band?"

The unemployed musicians he'd enlisted looked at him and looked at each other with one of those "you've got to be kidding" looks. They were sceptical. But they couldn't pass up the 200 bucks.

"Whatever," they said, "and don't forget the baton."

On party day, they pulled up in front of the house. It was a mansion. There was valet parking. Guests were heading in dressed in black tie.

They took a deep breath and made their way to the backyard, launching into the scenario they'd practiced.

When the lead musician stepped forward and said, "Does anyone here know how to lead a marching band?," the eighty year old birthday boy sprung forward with a look of unbridled pleasure on his face.

"I DO!," he said. He was breathless. His face flushed.

When the musician proffered the baton, the birthday boy said, "That's okay. I have my own," and he virtually skipped into the house to get his mace -- the huge baton that the drum major carries.

Then he proceeded to lead his marching band of rag-tag musicians around his well-manicured backyard.

I love this story.

What's your marching band?