In all of my years of growing up in Southern California—where it is cool to drink Starbucks coffee, wear oversized sunglasses, and carry dogs in purses—why would I join something so uncool as Marching Band? Every time I even mention that I play flute in band, I’m hassled with quotes like, “This one time…at Band Camp…” While my friends spent their summers soaking in sunshine at the beach, I sacrificed my last two weeks before school...