Sparking Joy!

[NOTE FROM JAN: Don't know about you, but seeking joy is on my to-do list everyday. Of course, some days require a little extra effort to find it. If today is one of those days for you, I double-dog dare you to read this post without feeling at least a flicker of a smile trying to tickle your lips. It's by my friend and sister creative, Karen Kirkpatrick, and I hope you love, love, love reading it as much as I did. Take it away, Karen!]

Back in the early oughts, which still seems like it was just last week, I stood on a street lined with Victorian houses in the Inman Park neighborhood of Atlanta, sure I must be imagining things. The blare of trumpets and thump of drums reached my ears first, but soon the unmistakable sound of an entire marching band punctuated by whoops and cheers reached my ears. In the next minute, a flamboyance of wildly dressed adults – sequins, boas, and flowers in a riot of color – rounded the corner. They skipped and danced and grinned. They waved at the crowd lining the street and laughed and looked like they were having more fun than the law allows.

I wanted to have that much fun.

The band at Big Green Egg's Eggtoberfest. Photo credit: Juliette Mansour Photographic Art.

I’m a writer by trade. Not books, though I’ve tried my hand at that, but magazine articles, education pieces, economic development work. And I’ve managed to make a living at it. But, oh, how I missed having something creative in my life.

I live in Marietta, about 30 miles from Little Five Points, the neighborhood the Seed and Feed Marching Abominable calls home. When I first saw them, it seemed too far to go to be in a band. I back-burnered the idea. But it kept niggling at me. And in 2010, when I was working in Midtown Atlanta, near Little Five, writing about electrical work and trying not to kill anyone with mistakes in my how-to guides, I joined the band.

I hadn’t played the alto sax since the Marching Chiefs at Florida State University in the 1980s – and I wasn’t that good then. (I learned early on that even last chair gets to go on the trips and have all the fun.) But none of that mattered. For the Seed and Feed, no auditions necessary. The only requirement for being an Abominable: a desire to spread joy through music.

A flamboyance of saxy flamingos.

My first band friend was a man who didn’t pick up an instrument or read music until he was nearly 50. This group of people, aged from early 20s to 80, welcomed all comers. Before the first rehearsal was over, I knew the names and had contact info for half a dozen people. Before my first gig – the Saturday after that first Tuesday night rehearsal – I had offers of costumes and tips for how to play music on a carousel and while going down an escalator without falling on your face – or horn.

Soon I was right at home among this group of business owners, doctors, lawyers, students, scientists, teachers, and every other profession – or lack of – you could imagine. Over the last16 years, I have made wonderful friends, played good music, had more fun than I ever dreamed possible, and helped bring joy to parades, weddings, conventions, sporting events, festivals, even funerals. 

Two hundred former and current Abominables played for the band's 50th anniversary in 2024.

Thankfully, for many people in the band, the music is the most important. So we sound as good as we look. For me, though, it isn’t practicing or playing perfectly that’s the draw. The joy comes from making music with friends and seeing a smile light up a child’s face as a marching band comes down the street.

For me, the band has always been the thing.

Karen at the Little Five Points Halloween parade.

Karen Kirkpatrick has made a career out of writing and editing for magazines, corporations, universities, books, and more. Learn more about her professional life on her Linkedin profile.

[ENDNOTE FROM JAN: Check out upcoming appearances of the Seed and Feed Marching Abominable. These folks truly DO spark joy! P.S. to Karen: Thanks for today's grin.]