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Soloist II: Bobby
Prologue:
Bobby Zimmerman carried on a proud musical tradition in his family as a member of Los Muchachos, a DCUS drum and bugle corps that had won many championships, including two his own parents had won before they aged out and he was born nine-months-to-the-day after J.D and Debbie Zimmerman had won their final Gold Medal and put away their corps uniforms for the last time-J.D. tickling Debbie’s bare feet and making her giggle and making Bobby too! Bobby would soon learn how he came to be as well as another proud Zimmerman tradition that had nothing to do with music!
Bobby grew up with two loving parents. His dad, James (J.D.) Zimmerman was now a handsome 43-year-old that served as the band director for the Northfield High School Band-a job he got after aging-out and graduation from college. His mother, Debbie (Wiggins) Zimmerman, was also a stunningly-beautiful 43-but looked 15 years younger-and served as an English teacher and the Color-Guard instructor for the band as well. It was a mere matter of time that young Bobby would join the same corps his parents did. The one thing Bobby puzzled over as a child and later as a young man over the years was the sounds that came from his parent’s locked bedroom: giggling-his mom’s giggling. It was a sweet, girlish giggle and sounded very sexy at the same time. He also noticed that sometimes when he heard the giggling, a brother (Joey) and a sister (Heather) wound up coming around nine months later. He puzzled and puzzled…
He had won his first gold medal with Los Muchachos as a rookie as his teary-eyed parents sobbed, but smiled in joy when he turned to them in the corps’ finale and played “Matador”, the same solo his dad had once performed and brought his parents together.
He too had won the trophy for high-brass soloist, and his girlfriend Sara Dewitt, a pretty blonde green-eyed girl and captain of the flags and rifles like his mom, had won top honors for guard. It had been a most satisfying rookie season for Bobby-nothing like his dad’s, who had suffered painfully through the season, dealing with rejection by his ex-girlfriend, and ostracism by his fellow corps members because he had been selected to play a solo over veteran corps members only to adapt, adjust, and overcome adversity to meet the girl he loved as well as becoming a champion and gaining acceptance of his fellow corps members. Bobby had never dealt with such things, nor had he met Sara by her smacking him in the bell of his horn with her flag and eating his mouthpiece like his dad did. Yet Bobby had come to love Sara deeply, just like his dad, J.D. Zimmerman, loved his mom, Debbie. And J.D. and Debbie, who learned that Sara had ticklish feet just like Debbie when Bobby had playfully tickled them during one of their visits, and even had playfully tickled Sara’s feet as well, had come to love Sara just like a daughter-in-law even though she was just Bobby’s girlfriend-for now. “ A chip off the old block!” J.D. had whispered to a giggling Debbie as a perplexed Bobby overheard them talking after Sara had left one evening.
It was October, drum corps season was over-Bobby had won his second Gold Medal and Best Soprano Trophy, and an away/nonperforming football game date for the Syracuse University marching band, where Bobby and Sara both were juniors studying music. They went to Bobby’s home in Northfield, New Jersey and did the ususal things college students do-their laundry, eat real-not dining hall food, and relax. His brother and sister were away for the weekend at a school-sponsored trip, so he and Sara could enjoy some time alone together.
J.D. and Debbie were delighted to have Bobby and Sara home for the weekend with them, preparing tasty dishes and feasting with the kids. Tonight was really special, for Bobby’s Djeddii (Russian for “Grandpa”) Vlad Zimmerman had come to visit as well, and they were sitting in the den listening to him sing and play Russian and Romanian gypsy music on his violin as they drank wine. Despite their German-sounding name, the Zimmermans were Russian-Romanian Gypsy, and had left Russia for a better life in America. Bobby and Sara cuddled together, as did J.D. and Debbie, smiling as Djeddii played and sang the beautiful, sometimes sad-sometimes romantic, but always fiery gypsy music of J.D.’s and Bobby’s heritage. They applauded enthusiastically as he finished.
“Moya lyublyu Malenki!” (My beloved little one-his pet name for his grandson) Djeddii Vlad called out to Bobby, “Iss time vor seeink your progresss on strringsss” he said in a thick Russian accent. For Vlad Zimmerman was an accomplished violinist with the Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra and as proud as he was of his grandson’s accomplishments as a brass player and drum and bugle corps champion, HE was going to make sure his grandson both passed his minor study of strings in school AND had an appreciation of them as well! “Dzhames, brrrink de gittarri” he said to his son as he passed his violin to his grandson. Grinning, J.D. handed his dad his guitar, strange in its looks-for it was of Russian design. “Here papa!”. Bobby blushed. “Djeddii, I will never be as good as you!” complained Bobby as he took his grandpa’s violin, for not only was he somewhat intimidated by “The Master”, who had picked up his soprano bugle one night and RIPPED through the “Carnival of Venice” before his astonished grandson and his parents, but his violin was a Gian-Paolo Pagini-very expensive-and he was afraid to handle it!
“Moya lyublyu malenki, I know you’re gudd museeseeyan, and eef you blay weeth da passsyun you do on your horrrnnn, dot same passsyun vhill serve you vhell on strrringss!” Djeddii smiled. “Dve Gittrarri (Two Guitars) Po Dushu! (From your soul!) NOW! ” barked Djeddii, as he began to play the countermelody on Russian guitar as Bobby dragged the bow across the violin’s strings and smiled as his grandpa nodded approval and began to sing in the Russian gypsy dialect “Dve Gittarri”…”… “…Ti li”…of a tune that began to get faster and faster! “…Na voryy!” …”…”Hup! Hup!”. Djeddii smiled with pride as his grandson began to sing with him in harmony and they tore through “Dve Gittarri” as his parents laughed and clapped Russian-style, applauding at the finish. “Ocheen Karasha, Malenki!” (Very good little one!) thundered Djeddii, beaming.
Sweating, with trembling hands, Bobby handed his grandfather’s violin back him.
“You haff done vhell, moya lyublyu malenki and I am zo prrroud and luff you so verrry much!” said Djeddii, embracing his grandson. “Ya lyublu Djeddii!” (I love you too grandpa!” said Bobby, hugging him back. Bobby looked at Sara, still sitting on the sofa, who had a smirk on her face, and puzzled, cocked his head quizzically. Sara was as sweet a girl as she was pretty, but her ancestry was English/Irish , and she didn’t understand, and sometimes secretly poked fun at the Zimmmermans’ flaming passions and the raw emotions Russian gypsy men openly expressed. “Bobby, dear” she said somewhat sarcastically, “Stick with brass, at least you’re not scared of it.” Bobby, who had tried so hard to please not just his grandfather and parents but his girlfriend as well, hung his head in shock and embarrassment, for despite his ancestry, Bobby, like his father was a shy boy too. Sara had meant her comment as a joke, but suddenly she was confronted with three slightly disapproving faces: Vlad, J.D. and Debbie Zimmerman! Uh-oh!
J.D. looked at Debbie, then whispered something in her ear. Debbie smiled broadly, then giggled, nodding her head in agreement. This somewhat unsettled Sara, wondering how angry they were and what was going to happen next. “Sara dear”, said J.D. turning to her with a calm, yet mischievous look on his face, “You just did the equivalent of smacking Bobby in the horn bell and making him eat his mouth piece like his mom did me! And we Zimmermans don’t get mad, we get even!”. Debbie snickered. J.D. and Debbie walked over and took positions on each side of Sara on the sofa, and each grabbed an ankle and proceeded to remove her shoes and socks. “Hey!” said Sara “What are you doing?” as Debbie and J.D. bared her feet while a confused Bobby and Vlad looked on. Then, J.D. said to his dad “Ya Tscheckotka Sara” (I’m tickling Sara) and Vlad responded with a mischievous smirk of his own. J.D. and Debbie looked at each other, smiled and then kissed as they held Sara’s bare feet in their firm grasp. “Now” said J.D. in a low voice, and they began to slowly caress Sara’s bare arches. Sara’s eyes opened wide, then began to sparkle as her mouth turned up into a growing smile and a giggle bubbled up from with in her. “HEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!”
“SHREEEEEIIIIIIIK! HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!” J.D. and Debbie tickled under Sara’s naked toes and drew lazy circles on the balls of her feet, dancing their fingers up and down her bare soles. “HELP! AAAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAAA! HELP! HAHA-
HAHAHAHAAA!”.
“You heard her Bobby,” said J.D. with a mischievous grin, “Help tickle her with your MOM!”. “No-no-no-no-no-no-no-AAAAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!” Sara squealed with laughter, as Bobby caught on, began to grin, and took Sara’s bare right foot from his dad and began to tickle it as his laughing mother, tickled her left one. Picking up his guitar, J.D. looked at the elder Zimmerman and said “Papa, play Yo Deves!”. Vlad, who had watched the movie “The Brothers Karamazov” with J.D. when his son was a boy, knew what he meant, smiled and brought the violin to his chin, and father and son played as Sara laughed.
“SHREEEIIIIIKK! AAAHAHAHAHHAAA! SQUEEEEAAAALLL!” Bobby had Sara in hysterics now, as well as both feet. He had rolled her over on her tummy and sat on her legs, planting light kisses on Sara’s bare soles. “HAHAHAAA-no-no-no-no-no- AAAAHAHAHAAA I-I’MSORRYBOBBY-HAHAHAHAAHAA-I’LLBEGOOD-no-no-no-no-no-no-EEEHEEHEEHEEHEE-SQUEEALLLL-AAAHAHAHAHAHAA!”. Bobby ran his tongue across her naked arches.EEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEE-HEEEEEEEEEEE!” as his father and Djeddii played in accompaniment to Sara’s laughter, then they began to sing. Sara became the “third” musical instrument with her laughter and Bobby joined them in song “Yoooh-Deves…” caressing Sara’s naked soles “SQUEEEEAALLL!EEEHEEHEHEEHEEHEEHEE!” “…po duzhenitir…”
kissing and licking her bare arches and toes “AAAHAHAHAHAAAA!” “…ah, za ya tir…” lazy cirles on the balls of her feet “HAHAHAHAAAASHREEIIK!” “…ooch marenna…”… “Hup! Hup!”. The music got faster, counter-pointed by Sara’s peals of laughter. Debbie laughed and clapped in time with the rhythm, smiling wickedly at Sara. “Remember Sara, Zimmermans don’t get mad, they get even!” even as she was tickled, Sara got the joke and giggled even harder as she pounded the floor with her fists, howling in laughter. Finally the music-and the tickling stopped. Bobby got off Sara, and gently rolled her over . “Are you gonna be a good girl, Sara?” said Bobby with a mock-angelic face Debbie immediately recognized from her younger days and snickered. “Uh-huh! Uh-
Huh!” said Sara, wide-eyed and panting, but smiling broadly. Bobby gave Sara a gentle kiss on the lips.
Sara, for her part, had tried to escape Bobby’s tickling fingers but her struggles merely caused her to hump the floor, rubbing her pubis against it as she tried in vain to crawl from under Bobby. The tickle sensation on her feet made her laugh uncontrollably, but it felt good too, and the combination of her humping the floor to get free and the feet-tickling began to produce a strange sensation in her. She began to get horny and wet-VERY horny and wet!
It was all Sara could do to contain herself the rest of the evening until the visit with Bobby’s Djeddii concluded and he left, giving J.D. and Debbie hugs and kisses and embracing Bobby again, said “ Alwaysss rrremeber Bobby, Po dushu, moyo lylublu malenki, Po dushu!” with a twinkle in his eye. Sara was about to go insane, the tingling in her wet vagina needed attending to badly! Sara and Bobby said good night to Bobby’s parents and went to his room, where Sara pounced on Bobby, smothering him with sloppy wet kisses. “Bobby, I’m horny!” she panted. “Please tickle my feet again and fuck me, please! PLEASE!” kissing him again. She was still barefoot. Bobby smiled, picked her up and carried to the bed. This time he tickled her feet slowly, gently, and lightly, making Sara giggle softly rather than squeal with laughter. But, the effect was the same as Sara got excited and wet once again. He held her bare right foot and tickled it as he kissed her. “MMMWUFHMM-HMMGIGGLEMMMWAHAHAMWUFGIGGLEHMM-
HMM-HMM!”. Her muffled giggles sounded and felt sexy on his lips. Peeling off Sara’s wet pants and panties, he dropped his own jeans and placed Sara on her knees and slid in from behind her. One hand reached down to tickle each bare sole facing up as he slowly slid in and out of her drooling vagina. “Giggle-Giggle! EEHEEHEEHEEHEE!Giggle-
Giggle! EEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEI’MCUMMINGHEEHEEHEEHEE!” Sara came hard and her jiggling ass and giggling orgasm caused Bobby to climax as well. He groaned with pleasure as he squirted his semen into her.
Bobby and Sara held each other, kissing, as they lay in bed. “I don’t know why Bobby, but when you started tickling me, I got so horny! I’m sorry I made fun of you playing. I love you!” “It’s OK Sara, I love you too and I’m kinda glad it happened!” said Bobby, smiling. All of a sudden they heard laughter, his mom’s laughter, just like he did as a child, coming from his parent’s room down the hall. Sara, remembering that Bobby’s parents had tickled her first before Bobby tonight, looked at him curiously. “Do you think?” she said. “I wonder too Sara, I wonder too”.
The next morning, at breakfast, Bobby and Sara sipped coffee as his mom prepared waffles and his dad fried eggs and bacon. Bobby looked at Sara, indicating he was going to ask his parents about last night. Sara’s eyes widened and she made a “No-no-no!” gesture, but it was too late. “Dad, I could have sworn I heard mom laughing in your bedroom last night”. Debbie giggled. J.D. turned to his son with a wicked smile on his face. “You did son, just like we heard giggling coming from your room. Sara’s eyes grew wide and she snickered, her hands held over her mouth. “Playfully imitating his own dad, J.D. said “You see, teekling de feetz of a gorl vas old Rrrrrusssian vay of foreplay goink back to de Tsars.” Debbie snickered, now with her hands over HER mouth. “Your grandpa told me that when I was a teenager and we watched a movie called “The Brothers Karamazov” together. My boy, that is how you came into the world! Your mom was crying because we had marched our last corps show and we were both aging out. I knew her feet were ticklish from the time we met. I tickled her that night and nine months later, there you were! Luckily we both had good teaching jobs lined at the time. And based on what your mom and I heard last night, it looks like we have a family tradition started!” said J.D. with a wink as Debbie broke into girlish laughter. Both Bobby and Sara began to blush! Bobby, however realized two things that morning: He loved Sara with all his heart and he knew what his December recital was going to be, and WHO would be playing along with him!
One of Syracuse University’s Department of Music requirements was that a student had to give a recital on a group of instruments or other area (i.e. vocal) not in his main concentration of study. In honor of his Djeddii, Bobby had planned “Night of the Gypsies: String Music of Russia” for his recital, which combined both strings and vocals. His grandpa was delighted to be his accompanist and the University was most happy to have a distinguished member of the Philadelphia Symphony in their auditorium. And so it came to be, that grandson and grandfather were to put together what was to be a fiery, spicy mix of music of music to enrapture the audience.
The audience began to file in. Faculty, members of the Philadelphia Symphony, who wanted to hear the grandson Vlad had bragged about with pride, students and music lovers. They took their seats and waited. Most music students were expected to wear formal dress for their recital, but this was no normal recital, and the audience gasped and murmured, then broke into applause, for Bobby and Vlad Zimmerman walked onto the stage dressed in Russian gypsy garb: puffy white shirts with black pants, colorful vests, high leather boots, and took their seats surrounded by the Russian-guitar, violin, balalaika and mandolin-like domra. Bobby’s parents and Sara sat together in the front row, smiling up at Bobby and his grandpa, and applauding. J.D. and Debbie were about to burst with pride, for THIS was THEIR drum corps champion son about to perform a solo of another style with his distinguished grandfather.
Bobby picked up the violin and smiled at his grandpa. “Po dusham, Dyeddii!”. Grinning with pride, the old man picked up the Russian-style guitar. “Po dusham moyo malenki!”, and they began to sing and play. “YOHHH-DEVES!”… “HUP! HUP!”.
For an hour, Bobby and Vlad Zimmerman wove a spell of magic, changing instruments, but Bobby always the lead. The enchanted audience smiled, shed tears and clapped in time with the music. On they played: “Moi Tyganochki”, “Dve Gittarri”, “Polso Gypsy Dance”, “Fonariki”, “Bojko Kolomijka”. “Korobushka” drew laughter and applause, for most people, until that night, only knew the tune as the “Tetris Game Music”! The last tune on the program, “Jewish Freylach”, that started slowly like many Russian Gypsy, tunes and then got faster and faster, caused thunderous applause, but Bobby stood, held up his hand and the audience quieted, then sat back down. He turned to his grandfather and in a low voice, said “Burn-Burn, Gypsy Love!”, and they began a surprise final encore, a fiery song that had the audience clapping in time (Bobby) “Garee-garee!” (Vlad) “Garee-garee!” (Bobby) “Lyublu Tsygansky!” (Vlad) “Hup! Hup!” they sang and played. The audience applauded wildly at the finish and Bobby and his grandpa stood and bowed. Once again, Bobby Zimmerman was a victorious soloist! Bobby looked down at his parents and girlfriend smiling up at him, bowed and extended his hand toward his grandpa. “Ladies and gentlemen, my grandfather, VLADIMIR ZIMMERMAN!” and the audience roared its’ approval. Vlad bowed, turned and extended his hand toward Bobby “Ladeez and Zhentlemanss, my beloved grrrandson BOBBY ZEEMERMANN!” and the audience again to began to roar but quickly fell silent as Vlad Zimmerman’s eyes grew wide and he winced in pain and grabbed his chest, falling to the floor. “Djeddii!” gasped Bobby, falling to his knees to cradle the old man in his arms as his grandpa gasped in pain for breath. “Papa! Papa!” J.D. cried as he tried unsuccessfully to climb onto the stage as a shocked Debbie and Sara looked on.
The university emergency medical services came charging in, stretcher and oxygen at the ready, but it was too late. Vlad grabbed his kneeling grandson’s hand, feeling its’ warmth, and the dying old man’s expression changed from pain to one of peace, looking at Bobby with loving eyes as his grandson gaped in horror. “Po dusham moyo lylublu malenki, po dusham!” were his last words as his eyes glazed over and closed. Bobby screamed. “DJEDDIIIIIIII!!!!!!”
The funeral for Vladimir Alyiosha Zimmerman, was a solemn Russian Orthodox ceremony, with the priest intoning a prayer for the dead. Then a Russian choir began to sing the old Russian hymn “ I pray to the Power of Love”, with its’ deep bass tones that resonated sadly yet creepily. The Zimmerman men wept openly as a teary-eyed Debbie Zimmerman tried to comfort both husband and son, holding them both in a group hug. Sara watched in dumb shock as Vlad’s coffin was slowly being lowered into the ground and finally it occurred to her: these men-her Bobby and his dad J.D. with the emotions she had trouble understanding, and that they displayed so openly and unashamedly, had more love for those that they considered their own than most men in her stuffy Irish-Engish family! J.D. and Bobby gained some composure, approached the grave and picked up a domra and Russian Guitar, and played one final tune over Vlad’s grave. As their voices began a high-pitched, mournful rendition of “Yo Deves”, playing for their fallen father/grandpa, the sad, haunting melody overcame Sara. Her lower lip began to quiver as tears rolled down her pretty cheeks and then she started to sob, and she ran, crying, to Debbie, who held her in her arms, holding her close, and rocking her as if she was comforting her own daughter.
August. Bobby and Sara’s last moments in the drum corps family of DCUS was upon them, for they were to turn 22, their age-out year, and they were also members of the two-time defending champion drum corps, Los Muchachos. They were, appropriately, in Philadelphia for the DCUS championship, and Bobby’s parents had rented them a hotel room by theirs so they could have some special time alone before the finals, for they, if anyone, knew what a stressful event a DCUS championship was!
Los Muchachos had trailed the hated Eleventh Troopers all year, not beating them in any competition that season and word was in Drum Corps magazine and all of the on-line drum corps discussion groups that a new champion was to be crowned in Philadelphia, for no corps had ever won three-in-a-row championships. As a result of this, a change had been made in the final week before the DCUS championships. Bobby had designed a part of this Los Muchachos’ drill and though they were a drum corps with a Spanish-theme, they had put in Bobby’s arrangement of “Dve Gitarri” as a Russian Gypsy number for the finale with Bobby playing a solo in honor of his late grandpa. The solo was difficult, and dangerous, for it was performed with Bobby standing in the middle of a fast-moving guard, low-twirling flags swinging past him as rifles also flew around him. In rehearsals, Bobby literally played on his knees with his horn pointed toward the ground for his safety.
The prelims. The quarterfinals. The semis. Through them all, the Eleventh Troopers held first place, followed by the Ghost Regiment and Los Muchachos in third place with the Knightsmen in fourth. Los Muchachos has chosen to launch the new drill on the final night.
J.D. and Sara spent their last night in their hotel room. An open bottle of Romanian wine sat in an ice bucket by their bed when a soft knock on their door distracted them from kissing. It was Bobby’s mom and dad. They came in holding four old DCUS gold medals and two best Soprano Soloist and Best Color Guard Medals. J.D., smiling, draped his Championship and Solo Medals over Bobby’s neck. “Wear them-for luck” J.D. said, hugging his son and kissing him Russian-style on both cheeks. “Ya lyublu, Bobby!” Debbie, smiling, draped her Championship and Top Guard Medals over Sara’s neck and also said “Wear them for luck!” and also Russian-style kissed Sara on her cheeks with an “I love you Sara.”. Sara looked back at Debbie, and her eyes glistening, said “I love you too Debbie!” With that, the loving parents of Bobby and their future daughter-in-law left the room.
Sara and Bobby heard giggling-his mom’s giggling-coming from his parents room next door. Sara laughed. Bobby turned to Sara and kissed her gently, then led her to the bed where she lay down. He began to unlace her sneakers and her eyes began to sparkle-oh the anticipation! He peeled off her socks and kissed the top of each bare foot and she began to giggle softly, knowing what was about to happen next. As if he was playing her like a guitar, be began stroking the soles of her pink naked feet and Sara burst into high-pitched, girlish laughter. “SQUEEEEAAALLLL! HEEHEEHEEEHEESHREEEEIIIIK!
AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!. He caressed her bare arches and underneath her pink toes. “Giggle-giggle! SQUEEEAAAAALL! Giggle-giggle! SHREEEIIKK! HAHAHA-
HAHAHAAAAAAAAAA!” Sara laughed, squealed and bucked up and down on the bed.
Now Bobby began to lick up and down Sara’s soles, licking and nibbling the pads of her toes. “EEEEEEHEEHEHEEHEEHEE! AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!”
Bobby’s tongue tickled worse than his fingers and Sara loved it, building in her excitement. Bobby rolled on his back and Sara rode him, and he reached down to tickle her bare soles facing up as he brought her to a giggling climax and her bucking made him spew his sperm into her, groaning but smiling in pleasure as the came together.
They were in the warm-up area, getting ready to perform, when members of the DCUS executive committee came toward Los Muchachos and said “Can we speak with Bobby Zimmerman?” Bobby immediately was alarmed, wondering if his new drill could be used this late. John Markham, Executive Director of DCUS came forward, shook Bobby’s hand, and said, “On behalf of DCUS, Syracuse University, and The Philadelphia Symphony, I present Bronislaw Storkowski, Conductor of the Philadelphia Symphony!” Bobby stood shocked, as did most of his corps, as, accompanied his parents, Bronslaw Storkowski-BRONILSLAW STORKOWSKI! came to him and placed a very familiar violin case-his grandpa’s, into his hands. “Your grandpa was so proud of you Bobby, and we saw why the night he died. YOU are a PROUD tradition, just like your father and grandfather! Go forth, tonight, march and play with pride!” Shaking, Bobby handed his dad the violin, gasping to control his emotions. Bobby was then handed an envelope by Maestro Storkowski. Bobby looked at it. It was in his grandpa’s European-style handwriting and said “If I am Gone”, and he opened it.
Bobby began to smile and then could not help but to chuckle out loud, reading his grandpa’s words, imagining them in his thick Russian accent, as he read them to his corps.
“ My dearrrest leetle vone, I know as you read thees letter I am gone. I know I vanted to be dere for your final march, but cannot, for my doctor had informed me dat my heart vas veekening too much, but I kept it a secrrrret from family because I vanted to do with you your recital. I so prrroud of you, moi lyublu malenki, and vill alvays bee vith you in spirit. No matterrr vhat you do Bobby, “Po Dusham, Bobby, po dusham!
Your Djeddii”
Bobby Snapped to attention. “PO DUSHAM-FROM YOUR SOUL!” he barked to his corps. “PO DUSHAM!” replied his corps in a roar! With that, they entered the stadium and their moment with destiny. Tonight, the corps smoked.
As defending champions, Los Muchachos had the options of going on last, and they did.
“Pictures de Espana” “Esprititu Del Toro” and “Matador” held the crowd enraptured as once again they wove their magic with drill and music, then halted and waited for the finale, ticking off seconds of silence-one of their signature moves. Once again the drum major began a high mark-time, “PLATOON, MARCH! ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”, and Los Muchachos began to swirl across the field like a tornado, opening to reveal Bobby standing in the middle playing the opening of “Dve Gittarri” as the flags and rifles of the guard swirled and spun perilously close to him, for unlike rehearsals he was standing tall as the music got faster and louder and they tore through the finale and halted on the sideline and roared with one voice “PO DUSHAM!” with the screaming crowd on its’ feet giving a standing ovation louder than any heard at that championship contest. Los Muchachos had done the impossible: A third straight Gold Medal with the Ghost Regiment still in second place and in a twist of Deja –vu, just as Bobby’s dad had experienced, another corps, the Knightsmen, surged at the right time and shoved the Eleventh troopers from medal standings-their most inglorious fall in their corps history!
Again, Bobby captured his third and final Top Brass Soloist award as did Sara her Top Color Guard trophy, and Los Muchachos also added top drum major, drum and horn trophies as well as general effect-a complete sweep of all captions!
Bobby was chosen to play one final time at Los Muchachos end-of-year banquet. In a delightful surprise, Bobby and Sara were offered the jobs of Brass and Color Guard captions for Los Muchachos. As a small modified drumline and hornline formed up at the end of the dinner tables, four figures marched from the other end of the banquet hall. Debbie Zimmerman and Sara Dewitt marched carrying flags. Their uniforms were different due to the change in times and style of the color guard. Behind them marched J.D. and Bobby Zimmerman. Their uniforms were not identical, but bore an eerie resemblance-for they were 20 years apart. As a smiling Debbie and Sara began a mini-flag routine, Father and son played a familiar tune together that each had only played as a solo before: “Matador”. The members and staff of Los Muchachos roared approval. Then Bobby opened up the case of his violin that has once been his grandpa’s and J.D., on Russian guitar joined him as they played and sang a song they had both come to love for many reasons: Yo Deves .
Epilogue:
Bobby and Sara Zimmerman also had the good fortune to end up as co-directors of the Atlantic City School system’s Music Program not far from his parents. Bobby taught the high school band, brass and percussion for both schools, and the all-school orchestra’s strings, while Sara taught the Junior High band and the woodwinds and color guard of junior high and high school. Just like his parents, Bobby had tickled and gotten Sara pregnant and Bobby’s delighted parents had rushed to the hospital when a very excited Bobby had called and told them that Sara was in labor. J.D. and Debbie came into the hospital room to see a smiling Sara in bed holding a baby boy and began to weep with joy as beaming, Bobby introduced their grandson: Vladimir Aliyosha Zimmerman II.
“PO DUSHAM!”
Prologue:
Bobby Zimmerman carried on a proud musical tradition in his family as a member of Los Muchachos, a DCUS drum and bugle corps that had won many championships, including two his own parents had won before they aged out and he was born nine-months-to-the-day after J.D and Debbie Zimmerman had won their final Gold Medal and put away their corps uniforms for the last time-J.D. tickling Debbie’s bare feet and making her giggle and making Bobby too! Bobby would soon learn how he came to be as well as another proud Zimmerman tradition that had nothing to do with music!
Bobby grew up with two loving parents. His dad, James (J.D.) Zimmerman was now a handsome 43-year-old that served as the band director for the Northfield High School Band-a job he got after aging-out and graduation from college. His mother, Debbie (Wiggins) Zimmerman, was also a stunningly-beautiful 43-but looked 15 years younger-and served as an English teacher and the Color-Guard instructor for the band as well. It was a mere matter of time that young Bobby would join the same corps his parents did. The one thing Bobby puzzled over as a child and later as a young man over the years was the sounds that came from his parent’s locked bedroom: giggling-his mom’s giggling. It was a sweet, girlish giggle and sounded very sexy at the same time. He also noticed that sometimes when he heard the giggling, a brother (Joey) and a sister (Heather) wound up coming around nine months later. He puzzled and puzzled…
He had won his first gold medal with Los Muchachos as a rookie as his teary-eyed parents sobbed, but smiled in joy when he turned to them in the corps’ finale and played “Matador”, the same solo his dad had once performed and brought his parents together.
He too had won the trophy for high-brass soloist, and his girlfriend Sara Dewitt, a pretty blonde green-eyed girl and captain of the flags and rifles like his mom, had won top honors for guard. It had been a most satisfying rookie season for Bobby-nothing like his dad’s, who had suffered painfully through the season, dealing with rejection by his ex-girlfriend, and ostracism by his fellow corps members because he had been selected to play a solo over veteran corps members only to adapt, adjust, and overcome adversity to meet the girl he loved as well as becoming a champion and gaining acceptance of his fellow corps members. Bobby had never dealt with such things, nor had he met Sara by her smacking him in the bell of his horn with her flag and eating his mouthpiece like his dad did. Yet Bobby had come to love Sara deeply, just like his dad, J.D. Zimmerman, loved his mom, Debbie. And J.D. and Debbie, who learned that Sara had ticklish feet just like Debbie when Bobby had playfully tickled them during one of their visits, and even had playfully tickled Sara’s feet as well, had come to love Sara just like a daughter-in-law even though she was just Bobby’s girlfriend-for now. “ A chip off the old block!” J.D. had whispered to a giggling Debbie as a perplexed Bobby overheard them talking after Sara had left one evening.
It was October, drum corps season was over-Bobby had won his second Gold Medal and Best Soprano Trophy, and an away/nonperforming football game date for the Syracuse University marching band, where Bobby and Sara both were juniors studying music. They went to Bobby’s home in Northfield, New Jersey and did the ususal things college students do-their laundry, eat real-not dining hall food, and relax. His brother and sister were away for the weekend at a school-sponsored trip, so he and Sara could enjoy some time alone together.
J.D. and Debbie were delighted to have Bobby and Sara home for the weekend with them, preparing tasty dishes and feasting with the kids. Tonight was really special, for Bobby’s Djeddii (Russian for “Grandpa”) Vlad Zimmerman had come to visit as well, and they were sitting in the den listening to him sing and play Russian and Romanian gypsy music on his violin as they drank wine. Despite their German-sounding name, the Zimmermans were Russian-Romanian Gypsy, and had left Russia for a better life in America. Bobby and Sara cuddled together, as did J.D. and Debbie, smiling as Djeddii played and sang the beautiful, sometimes sad-sometimes romantic, but always fiery gypsy music of J.D.’s and Bobby’s heritage. They applauded enthusiastically as he finished.
“Moya lyublyu Malenki!” (My beloved little one-his pet name for his grandson) Djeddii Vlad called out to Bobby, “Iss time vor seeink your progresss on strringsss” he said in a thick Russian accent. For Vlad Zimmerman was an accomplished violinist with the Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra and as proud as he was of his grandson’s accomplishments as a brass player and drum and bugle corps champion, HE was going to make sure his grandson both passed his minor study of strings in school AND had an appreciation of them as well! “Dzhames, brrrink de gittarri” he said to his son as he passed his violin to his grandson. Grinning, J.D. handed his dad his guitar, strange in its looks-for it was of Russian design. “Here papa!”. Bobby blushed. “Djeddii, I will never be as good as you!” complained Bobby as he took his grandpa’s violin, for not only was he somewhat intimidated by “The Master”, who had picked up his soprano bugle one night and RIPPED through the “Carnival of Venice” before his astonished grandson and his parents, but his violin was a Gian-Paolo Pagini-very expensive-and he was afraid to handle it!
“Moya lyublyu malenki, I know you’re gudd museeseeyan, and eef you blay weeth da passsyun you do on your horrrnnn, dot same passsyun vhill serve you vhell on strrringss!” Djeddii smiled. “Dve Gittrarri (Two Guitars) Po Dushu! (From your soul!) NOW! ” barked Djeddii, as he began to play the countermelody on Russian guitar as Bobby dragged the bow across the violin’s strings and smiled as his grandpa nodded approval and began to sing in the Russian gypsy dialect “Dve Gittarri”…”… “…Ti li”…of a tune that began to get faster and faster! “…Na voryy!” …”…”Hup! Hup!”. Djeddii smiled with pride as his grandson began to sing with him in harmony and they tore through “Dve Gittarri” as his parents laughed and clapped Russian-style, applauding at the finish. “Ocheen Karasha, Malenki!” (Very good little one!) thundered Djeddii, beaming.
Sweating, with trembling hands, Bobby handed his grandfather’s violin back him.
“You haff done vhell, moya lyublyu malenki and I am zo prrroud and luff you so verrry much!” said Djeddii, embracing his grandson. “Ya lyublu Djeddii!” (I love you too grandpa!” said Bobby, hugging him back. Bobby looked at Sara, still sitting on the sofa, who had a smirk on her face, and puzzled, cocked his head quizzically. Sara was as sweet a girl as she was pretty, but her ancestry was English/Irish , and she didn’t understand, and sometimes secretly poked fun at the Zimmmermans’ flaming passions and the raw emotions Russian gypsy men openly expressed. “Bobby, dear” she said somewhat sarcastically, “Stick with brass, at least you’re not scared of it.” Bobby, who had tried so hard to please not just his grandfather and parents but his girlfriend as well, hung his head in shock and embarrassment, for despite his ancestry, Bobby, like his father was a shy boy too. Sara had meant her comment as a joke, but suddenly she was confronted with three slightly disapproving faces: Vlad, J.D. and Debbie Zimmerman! Uh-oh!
J.D. looked at Debbie, then whispered something in her ear. Debbie smiled broadly, then giggled, nodding her head in agreement. This somewhat unsettled Sara, wondering how angry they were and what was going to happen next. “Sara dear”, said J.D. turning to her with a calm, yet mischievous look on his face, “You just did the equivalent of smacking Bobby in the horn bell and making him eat his mouth piece like his mom did me! And we Zimmermans don’t get mad, we get even!”. Debbie snickered. J.D. and Debbie walked over and took positions on each side of Sara on the sofa, and each grabbed an ankle and proceeded to remove her shoes and socks. “Hey!” said Sara “What are you doing?” as Debbie and J.D. bared her feet while a confused Bobby and Vlad looked on. Then, J.D. said to his dad “Ya Tscheckotka Sara” (I’m tickling Sara) and Vlad responded with a mischievous smirk of his own. J.D. and Debbie looked at each other, smiled and then kissed as they held Sara’s bare feet in their firm grasp. “Now” said J.D. in a low voice, and they began to slowly caress Sara’s bare arches. Sara’s eyes opened wide, then began to sparkle as her mouth turned up into a growing smile and a giggle bubbled up from with in her. “HEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!”
“SHREEEEEIIIIIIIK! HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!” J.D. and Debbie tickled under Sara’s naked toes and drew lazy circles on the balls of her feet, dancing their fingers up and down her bare soles. “HELP! AAAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAAA! HELP! HAHA-
HAHAHAHAAA!”.
“You heard her Bobby,” said J.D. with a mischievous grin, “Help tickle her with your MOM!”. “No-no-no-no-no-no-no-AAAAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!” Sara squealed with laughter, as Bobby caught on, began to grin, and took Sara’s bare right foot from his dad and began to tickle it as his laughing mother, tickled her left one. Picking up his guitar, J.D. looked at the elder Zimmerman and said “Papa, play Yo Deves!”. Vlad, who had watched the movie “The Brothers Karamazov” with J.D. when his son was a boy, knew what he meant, smiled and brought the violin to his chin, and father and son played as Sara laughed.
“SHREEEIIIIIKK! AAAHAHAHAHHAAA! SQUEEEEAAAALLL!” Bobby had Sara in hysterics now, as well as both feet. He had rolled her over on her tummy and sat on her legs, planting light kisses on Sara’s bare soles. “HAHAHAAA-no-no-no-no-no- AAAAHAHAHAAA I-I’MSORRYBOBBY-HAHAHAHAAHAA-I’LLBEGOOD-no-no-no-no-no-no-EEEHEEHEEHEEHEE-SQUEEALLLL-AAAHAHAHAHAHAA!”. Bobby ran his tongue across her naked arches.EEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEE-HEEEEEEEEEEE!” as his father and Djeddii played in accompaniment to Sara’s laughter, then they began to sing. Sara became the “third” musical instrument with her laughter and Bobby joined them in song “Yoooh-Deves…” caressing Sara’s naked soles “SQUEEEEAALLL!EEEHEEHEHEEHEEHEEHEE!” “…po duzhenitir…”
kissing and licking her bare arches and toes “AAAHAHAHAHAAAA!” “…ah, za ya tir…” lazy cirles on the balls of her feet “HAHAHAHAAAASHREEIIK!” “…ooch marenna…”… “Hup! Hup!”. The music got faster, counter-pointed by Sara’s peals of laughter. Debbie laughed and clapped in time with the rhythm, smiling wickedly at Sara. “Remember Sara, Zimmermans don’t get mad, they get even!” even as she was tickled, Sara got the joke and giggled even harder as she pounded the floor with her fists, howling in laughter. Finally the music-and the tickling stopped. Bobby got off Sara, and gently rolled her over . “Are you gonna be a good girl, Sara?” said Bobby with a mock-angelic face Debbie immediately recognized from her younger days and snickered. “Uh-huh! Uh-
Huh!” said Sara, wide-eyed and panting, but smiling broadly. Bobby gave Sara a gentle kiss on the lips.
Sara, for her part, had tried to escape Bobby’s tickling fingers but her struggles merely caused her to hump the floor, rubbing her pubis against it as she tried in vain to crawl from under Bobby. The tickle sensation on her feet made her laugh uncontrollably, but it felt good too, and the combination of her humping the floor to get free and the feet-tickling began to produce a strange sensation in her. She began to get horny and wet-VERY horny and wet!
It was all Sara could do to contain herself the rest of the evening until the visit with Bobby’s Djeddii concluded and he left, giving J.D. and Debbie hugs and kisses and embracing Bobby again, said “ Alwaysss rrremeber Bobby, Po dushu, moyo lylublu malenki, Po dushu!” with a twinkle in his eye. Sara was about to go insane, the tingling in her wet vagina needed attending to badly! Sara and Bobby said good night to Bobby’s parents and went to his room, where Sara pounced on Bobby, smothering him with sloppy wet kisses. “Bobby, I’m horny!” she panted. “Please tickle my feet again and fuck me, please! PLEASE!” kissing him again. She was still barefoot. Bobby smiled, picked her up and carried to the bed. This time he tickled her feet slowly, gently, and lightly, making Sara giggle softly rather than squeal with laughter. But, the effect was the same as Sara got excited and wet once again. He held her bare right foot and tickled it as he kissed her. “MMMWUFHMM-HMMGIGGLEMMMWAHAHAMWUFGIGGLEHMM-
HMM-HMM!”. Her muffled giggles sounded and felt sexy on his lips. Peeling off Sara’s wet pants and panties, he dropped his own jeans and placed Sara on her knees and slid in from behind her. One hand reached down to tickle each bare sole facing up as he slowly slid in and out of her drooling vagina. “Giggle-Giggle! EEHEEHEEHEEHEE!Giggle-
Giggle! EEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEI’MCUMMINGHEEHEEHEEHEE!” Sara came hard and her jiggling ass and giggling orgasm caused Bobby to climax as well. He groaned with pleasure as he squirted his semen into her.
Bobby and Sara held each other, kissing, as they lay in bed. “I don’t know why Bobby, but when you started tickling me, I got so horny! I’m sorry I made fun of you playing. I love you!” “It’s OK Sara, I love you too and I’m kinda glad it happened!” said Bobby, smiling. All of a sudden they heard laughter, his mom’s laughter, just like he did as a child, coming from his parent’s room down the hall. Sara, remembering that Bobby’s parents had tickled her first before Bobby tonight, looked at him curiously. “Do you think?” she said. “I wonder too Sara, I wonder too”.
The next morning, at breakfast, Bobby and Sara sipped coffee as his mom prepared waffles and his dad fried eggs and bacon. Bobby looked at Sara, indicating he was going to ask his parents about last night. Sara’s eyes widened and she made a “No-no-no!” gesture, but it was too late. “Dad, I could have sworn I heard mom laughing in your bedroom last night”. Debbie giggled. J.D. turned to his son with a wicked smile on his face. “You did son, just like we heard giggling coming from your room. Sara’s eyes grew wide and she snickered, her hands held over her mouth. “Playfully imitating his own dad, J.D. said “You see, teekling de feetz of a gorl vas old Rrrrrusssian vay of foreplay goink back to de Tsars.” Debbie snickered, now with her hands over HER mouth. “Your grandpa told me that when I was a teenager and we watched a movie called “The Brothers Karamazov” together. My boy, that is how you came into the world! Your mom was crying because we had marched our last corps show and we were both aging out. I knew her feet were ticklish from the time we met. I tickled her that night and nine months later, there you were! Luckily we both had good teaching jobs lined at the time. And based on what your mom and I heard last night, it looks like we have a family tradition started!” said J.D. with a wink as Debbie broke into girlish laughter. Both Bobby and Sara began to blush! Bobby, however realized two things that morning: He loved Sara with all his heart and he knew what his December recital was going to be, and WHO would be playing along with him!
One of Syracuse University’s Department of Music requirements was that a student had to give a recital on a group of instruments or other area (i.e. vocal) not in his main concentration of study. In honor of his Djeddii, Bobby had planned “Night of the Gypsies: String Music of Russia” for his recital, which combined both strings and vocals. His grandpa was delighted to be his accompanist and the University was most happy to have a distinguished member of the Philadelphia Symphony in their auditorium. And so it came to be, that grandson and grandfather were to put together what was to be a fiery, spicy mix of music of music to enrapture the audience.
The audience began to file in. Faculty, members of the Philadelphia Symphony, who wanted to hear the grandson Vlad had bragged about with pride, students and music lovers. They took their seats and waited. Most music students were expected to wear formal dress for their recital, but this was no normal recital, and the audience gasped and murmured, then broke into applause, for Bobby and Vlad Zimmerman walked onto the stage dressed in Russian gypsy garb: puffy white shirts with black pants, colorful vests, high leather boots, and took their seats surrounded by the Russian-guitar, violin, balalaika and mandolin-like domra. Bobby’s parents and Sara sat together in the front row, smiling up at Bobby and his grandpa, and applauding. J.D. and Debbie were about to burst with pride, for THIS was THEIR drum corps champion son about to perform a solo of another style with his distinguished grandfather.
Bobby picked up the violin and smiled at his grandpa. “Po dusham, Dyeddii!”. Grinning with pride, the old man picked up the Russian-style guitar. “Po dusham moyo malenki!”, and they began to sing and play. “YOHHH-DEVES!”… “HUP! HUP!”.
For an hour, Bobby and Vlad Zimmerman wove a spell of magic, changing instruments, but Bobby always the lead. The enchanted audience smiled, shed tears and clapped in time with the music. On they played: “Moi Tyganochki”, “Dve Gittarri”, “Polso Gypsy Dance”, “Fonariki”, “Bojko Kolomijka”. “Korobushka” drew laughter and applause, for most people, until that night, only knew the tune as the “Tetris Game Music”! The last tune on the program, “Jewish Freylach”, that started slowly like many Russian Gypsy, tunes and then got faster and faster, caused thunderous applause, but Bobby stood, held up his hand and the audience quieted, then sat back down. He turned to his grandfather and in a low voice, said “Burn-Burn, Gypsy Love!”, and they began a surprise final encore, a fiery song that had the audience clapping in time (Bobby) “Garee-garee!” (Vlad) “Garee-garee!” (Bobby) “Lyublu Tsygansky!” (Vlad) “Hup! Hup!” they sang and played. The audience applauded wildly at the finish and Bobby and his grandpa stood and bowed. Once again, Bobby Zimmerman was a victorious soloist! Bobby looked down at his parents and girlfriend smiling up at him, bowed and extended his hand toward his grandpa. “Ladies and gentlemen, my grandfather, VLADIMIR ZIMMERMAN!” and the audience roared its’ approval. Vlad bowed, turned and extended his hand toward Bobby “Ladeez and Zhentlemanss, my beloved grrrandson BOBBY ZEEMERMANN!” and the audience again to began to roar but quickly fell silent as Vlad Zimmerman’s eyes grew wide and he winced in pain and grabbed his chest, falling to the floor. “Djeddii!” gasped Bobby, falling to his knees to cradle the old man in his arms as his grandpa gasped in pain for breath. “Papa! Papa!” J.D. cried as he tried unsuccessfully to climb onto the stage as a shocked Debbie and Sara looked on.
The university emergency medical services came charging in, stretcher and oxygen at the ready, but it was too late. Vlad grabbed his kneeling grandson’s hand, feeling its’ warmth, and the dying old man’s expression changed from pain to one of peace, looking at Bobby with loving eyes as his grandson gaped in horror. “Po dusham moyo lylublu malenki, po dusham!” were his last words as his eyes glazed over and closed. Bobby screamed. “DJEDDIIIIIIII!!!!!!”
The funeral for Vladimir Alyiosha Zimmerman, was a solemn Russian Orthodox ceremony, with the priest intoning a prayer for the dead. Then a Russian choir began to sing the old Russian hymn “ I pray to the Power of Love”, with its’ deep bass tones that resonated sadly yet creepily. The Zimmerman men wept openly as a teary-eyed Debbie Zimmerman tried to comfort both husband and son, holding them both in a group hug. Sara watched in dumb shock as Vlad’s coffin was slowly being lowered into the ground and finally it occurred to her: these men-her Bobby and his dad J.D. with the emotions she had trouble understanding, and that they displayed so openly and unashamedly, had more love for those that they considered their own than most men in her stuffy Irish-Engish family! J.D. and Bobby gained some composure, approached the grave and picked up a domra and Russian Guitar, and played one final tune over Vlad’s grave. As their voices began a high-pitched, mournful rendition of “Yo Deves”, playing for their fallen father/grandpa, the sad, haunting melody overcame Sara. Her lower lip began to quiver as tears rolled down her pretty cheeks and then she started to sob, and she ran, crying, to Debbie, who held her in her arms, holding her close, and rocking her as if she was comforting her own daughter.
August. Bobby and Sara’s last moments in the drum corps family of DCUS was upon them, for they were to turn 22, their age-out year, and they were also members of the two-time defending champion drum corps, Los Muchachos. They were, appropriately, in Philadelphia for the DCUS championship, and Bobby’s parents had rented them a hotel room by theirs so they could have some special time alone before the finals, for they, if anyone, knew what a stressful event a DCUS championship was!
Los Muchachos had trailed the hated Eleventh Troopers all year, not beating them in any competition that season and word was in Drum Corps magazine and all of the on-line drum corps discussion groups that a new champion was to be crowned in Philadelphia, for no corps had ever won three-in-a-row championships. As a result of this, a change had been made in the final week before the DCUS championships. Bobby had designed a part of this Los Muchachos’ drill and though they were a drum corps with a Spanish-theme, they had put in Bobby’s arrangement of “Dve Gitarri” as a Russian Gypsy number for the finale with Bobby playing a solo in honor of his late grandpa. The solo was difficult, and dangerous, for it was performed with Bobby standing in the middle of a fast-moving guard, low-twirling flags swinging past him as rifles also flew around him. In rehearsals, Bobby literally played on his knees with his horn pointed toward the ground for his safety.
The prelims. The quarterfinals. The semis. Through them all, the Eleventh Troopers held first place, followed by the Ghost Regiment and Los Muchachos in third place with the Knightsmen in fourth. Los Muchachos has chosen to launch the new drill on the final night.
J.D. and Sara spent their last night in their hotel room. An open bottle of Romanian wine sat in an ice bucket by their bed when a soft knock on their door distracted them from kissing. It was Bobby’s mom and dad. They came in holding four old DCUS gold medals and two best Soprano Soloist and Best Color Guard Medals. J.D., smiling, draped his Championship and Solo Medals over Bobby’s neck. “Wear them-for luck” J.D. said, hugging his son and kissing him Russian-style on both cheeks. “Ya lyublu, Bobby!” Debbie, smiling, draped her Championship and Top Guard Medals over Sara’s neck and also said “Wear them for luck!” and also Russian-style kissed Sara on her cheeks with an “I love you Sara.”. Sara looked back at Debbie, and her eyes glistening, said “I love you too Debbie!” With that, the loving parents of Bobby and their future daughter-in-law left the room.
Sara and Bobby heard giggling-his mom’s giggling-coming from his parents room next door. Sara laughed. Bobby turned to Sara and kissed her gently, then led her to the bed where she lay down. He began to unlace her sneakers and her eyes began to sparkle-oh the anticipation! He peeled off her socks and kissed the top of each bare foot and she began to giggle softly, knowing what was about to happen next. As if he was playing her like a guitar, be began stroking the soles of her pink naked feet and Sara burst into high-pitched, girlish laughter. “SQUEEEEAAALLLL! HEEHEEHEEEHEESHREEEEIIIIK!
AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!. He caressed her bare arches and underneath her pink toes. “Giggle-giggle! SQUEEEAAAAALL! Giggle-giggle! SHREEEIIKK! HAHAHA-
HAHAHAAAAAAAAAA!” Sara laughed, squealed and bucked up and down on the bed.
Now Bobby began to lick up and down Sara’s soles, licking and nibbling the pads of her toes. “EEEEEEHEEHEHEEHEEHEE! AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!”
Bobby’s tongue tickled worse than his fingers and Sara loved it, building in her excitement. Bobby rolled on his back and Sara rode him, and he reached down to tickle her bare soles facing up as he brought her to a giggling climax and her bucking made him spew his sperm into her, groaning but smiling in pleasure as the came together.
They were in the warm-up area, getting ready to perform, when members of the DCUS executive committee came toward Los Muchachos and said “Can we speak with Bobby Zimmerman?” Bobby immediately was alarmed, wondering if his new drill could be used this late. John Markham, Executive Director of DCUS came forward, shook Bobby’s hand, and said, “On behalf of DCUS, Syracuse University, and The Philadelphia Symphony, I present Bronislaw Storkowski, Conductor of the Philadelphia Symphony!” Bobby stood shocked, as did most of his corps, as, accompanied his parents, Bronslaw Storkowski-BRONILSLAW STORKOWSKI! came to him and placed a very familiar violin case-his grandpa’s, into his hands. “Your grandpa was so proud of you Bobby, and we saw why the night he died. YOU are a PROUD tradition, just like your father and grandfather! Go forth, tonight, march and play with pride!” Shaking, Bobby handed his dad the violin, gasping to control his emotions. Bobby was then handed an envelope by Maestro Storkowski. Bobby looked at it. It was in his grandpa’s European-style handwriting and said “If I am Gone”, and he opened it.
Bobby began to smile and then could not help but to chuckle out loud, reading his grandpa’s words, imagining them in his thick Russian accent, as he read them to his corps.
“ My dearrrest leetle vone, I know as you read thees letter I am gone. I know I vanted to be dere for your final march, but cannot, for my doctor had informed me dat my heart vas veekening too much, but I kept it a secrrrret from family because I vanted to do with you your recital. I so prrroud of you, moi lyublu malenki, and vill alvays bee vith you in spirit. No matterrr vhat you do Bobby, “Po Dusham, Bobby, po dusham!
Your Djeddii”
Bobby Snapped to attention. “PO DUSHAM-FROM YOUR SOUL!” he barked to his corps. “PO DUSHAM!” replied his corps in a roar! With that, they entered the stadium and their moment with destiny. Tonight, the corps smoked.
As defending champions, Los Muchachos had the options of going on last, and they did.
“Pictures de Espana” “Esprititu Del Toro” and “Matador” held the crowd enraptured as once again they wove their magic with drill and music, then halted and waited for the finale, ticking off seconds of silence-one of their signature moves. Once again the drum major began a high mark-time, “PLATOON, MARCH! ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”, and Los Muchachos began to swirl across the field like a tornado, opening to reveal Bobby standing in the middle playing the opening of “Dve Gittarri” as the flags and rifles of the guard swirled and spun perilously close to him, for unlike rehearsals he was standing tall as the music got faster and louder and they tore through the finale and halted on the sideline and roared with one voice “PO DUSHAM!” with the screaming crowd on its’ feet giving a standing ovation louder than any heard at that championship contest. Los Muchachos had done the impossible: A third straight Gold Medal with the Ghost Regiment still in second place and in a twist of Deja –vu, just as Bobby’s dad had experienced, another corps, the Knightsmen, surged at the right time and shoved the Eleventh troopers from medal standings-their most inglorious fall in their corps history!
Again, Bobby captured his third and final Top Brass Soloist award as did Sara her Top Color Guard trophy, and Los Muchachos also added top drum major, drum and horn trophies as well as general effect-a complete sweep of all captions!
Bobby was chosen to play one final time at Los Muchachos end-of-year banquet. In a delightful surprise, Bobby and Sara were offered the jobs of Brass and Color Guard captions for Los Muchachos. As a small modified drumline and hornline formed up at the end of the dinner tables, four figures marched from the other end of the banquet hall. Debbie Zimmerman and Sara Dewitt marched carrying flags. Their uniforms were different due to the change in times and style of the color guard. Behind them marched J.D. and Bobby Zimmerman. Their uniforms were not identical, but bore an eerie resemblance-for they were 20 years apart. As a smiling Debbie and Sara began a mini-flag routine, Father and son played a familiar tune together that each had only played as a solo before: “Matador”. The members and staff of Los Muchachos roared approval. Then Bobby opened up the case of his violin that has once been his grandpa’s and J.D., on Russian guitar joined him as they played and sang a song they had both come to love for many reasons: Yo Deves .
Epilogue:
Bobby and Sara Zimmerman also had the good fortune to end up as co-directors of the Atlantic City School system’s Music Program not far from his parents. Bobby taught the high school band, brass and percussion for both schools, and the all-school orchestra’s strings, while Sara taught the Junior High band and the woodwinds and color guard of junior high and high school. Just like his parents, Bobby had tickled and gotten Sara pregnant and Bobby’s delighted parents had rushed to the hospital when a very excited Bobby had called and told them that Sara was in labor. J.D. and Debbie came into the hospital room to see a smiling Sara in bed holding a baby boy and began to weep with joy as beaming, Bobby introduced their grandson: Vladimir Aliyosha Zimmerman II.
“PO DUSHAM!”
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