It's Ok to Dream Big

So many children in this world have a dream of being an astronaut, a firefighter, a ballerina, a teacher. I dreamed of being something different. I dreamed of being a baton twirler. I was six years old and I remember going to a high school football game. I remember hearing the marching band warming up for halftime and my mother took me over to see them get ready for the show. I was amazed at what I saw for the first time. The uniforms, the music, the instruments, the flags... the make up. I remember my mother, telling me, "look over there, Eric." I looked at what she was pointing at and she showed me the most beautiful sight I had ever seen to that date in the mid eighties. "That's Jessica, the baton twirler," mom said. I stood there like a child at Christmas morning, with my mouth open wide and my eyes ready to pop out of my head. "WOW," I whispered to myself in excitement. I saw Jessica Ramos, La Feria High School's Feature Twirler for the Lion Marching Band in her glitzy, light blue camisole leotard with metallic fringe and rhinestones and sequins covering the bodice. Her hair was pulled up in a tight bun and her face was made up with royal blue eye make up and the reddest of red lipstick, accentuating her very perfect smile.

She twirled her baton so fast, it looked like liquid lightning around her body, and she tossed her batons so high I thought they'd trip the seagulls. She spun so quickly and made the batons roll so gracefully all over her neck, lips, arms, legs and back. I knew at that very moment that is what I wanted to do. I could not believe there was such an activity as baton twirling. It was so beautiful. The Band formed on the far side of the field ready to march on for halftime. The buzzers rang and the band started to march toward the crowd as they screamed for their friends and loved ones. "Alright, Laura!" "Go, James, we love you!" "Get it, Jessica!" I was verclempt and excited at how popular this whole thing was. I remember the band started to play 'September' by Earth Wind and Fire and the crowd went wild as the band opened up and Jessica tumbled out through the band in front of the color guard, down the fifty yard line. She tossed her baton and did, what I later learned was, a triple illusion under her toss and caught her baton without even looking at it behind her head and immediately, I was sold.

"I want to do that, mommy" I turned to her and my smile was beginning to hurt my face, it was so tight. Of course, she burst my bubble by telling me, "no, Eric, that's only for girls. Only girls do that." I also discovered that night what heartbreak and disappointment felt like. Needless to say, I watched the rest of the halftime show in tears. The following Monday, at school, I told all my 'girl' friends about what I saw and they found it amusing how I'd never heard of such a thing before. I grew up in a family of firefighters. It is all I knew for years. I could tell you everything there is to know about fire safety and fire trucks, but baton twirling? I had no clue. The all told me of the only baton twirling studio in the Rio Grande Valley, in Harlingen. I wrote it all down and after school I ran home and went right to the phone book. I found the instructor's name and started to dial, but my mom's haunting words shot through my head, 'That's only for girls.' So ,I stopped and hung up the phone. I did my homework and waited for my mom to come home so I could begin the persuasion. It took three years of tearful persuasion, essays and debating with both my parents to get them to cave in. Actually, my dad gave up after a week.

One day in September of 1989, during a systematic persuasion debate, I finally asked my mom, "How can you deprive your son of something that may make him happy?" Well, it definitely shut her up and to my surprise, made her cry. this made me cry too, because it was not my intent. She put her head in her hands resting on her knees and after a long silence, said to me, "I only wanted to protect you from being hurt by other people who would not understand, baby." I responded with, "Well, mom, this is the eighties. If that Mark Nash guy can do it and win the world championships, why can't I? Besides, how will you know what it will do for me unless you let me try?" This made her exhale very deeply and she finally told me, "ok, Eric. If this is really what you want to do, then I will give her a call tomorrow and set up an appointment. I felt my first sense of accomplishment already, not to mention family bonding. I came home from school the next day as usual, walking in the back door and didn't know mom was already home. She told me "Hi honey, you have an appointment this Saturday at 11am with Mrs. Schroeder at the Harlingen Boys and Girls Club." I asked, "for what?" she turned to me and said, "for twirling, baby." I just about died of excessive happiness at that moment. Of course, the happiness died once I found out that my weekends and after school time were going to have to be sacrificed for my twirling, but I didn't care.

I remember my very first lesson like it was yesterday. I felt for the first time like I belonged to something special and cool. I made more friends, I traveled to more and more places, I even performed in front of more and more people as I got older. The obstacles got harder and bigger and seemingly impossible once I got into high school. My parents divorced, I was being tossed from one parent to another and was ALWAYS the new kid in school. My mom moving from city to city didn't make it any easier for me. It wasn't until I moved to Dallas, that I realized that twirling was not only nonexistent, but not allowed in schools. Too many bands were big on color guards and drill teams and by the late nineties, twirling, pretty much died, in Dallas, anyway. This made me very sad, but I still faught for it and practiced and although, back in south Texas, I made the twirling line, I was never a feature twirler. I always wanted to be a college feature twirler. My all time dream. Well, I was not getting any younger, and I still did not have a degree of any kind, so I decided to do something about it. I auditioned for feature twirler at my college and I made it. It was such a happy day. After they called my name at the audition, I turned to my mom and said, "Happy Birthday, mom." (yes, it really was her birthday) In the car on the way back to Dallas, I told her, "thank you for letting me achieve my dream, even when so many people told me 'No, you can't do that.'" She turned to me and said, I'm proud of you, Eric. I'm very proud of you." Being a baton twirler to this day, I have met some wonderful people and I have had many experiences that I will take with me until the day I die.

After all the band directors who told me, 'no', after all the coaches who did not believe in me, after all the doubt and hate from my peers and the general student body, I say to you... Dream big and stick with it. Prove them wrong and fight for what you believe in. No matter what, stick with it. It all starts with a dream.