Momentarily making music memories
Another day of not much happening. Our theatre auditions last night (and the ones for tonight) had to be cancelled because whomever was responsible for posting the information to the public didn’t and not enough people knew about it. Today I made sure that the event is listed on Facebook, through the electronic version of the local newspaper, and on the local forums for events in our area. I can do those for free, so that’s my contribution. As was so wisely said in “The Producers” — “Never put your own money in a show!”
So, today I don’t have to worry about rushing-off to auditions and will have more time to help make sure Youngest Son practices his trumpet for his solo and sextet for the State Band Competitions coming up in April. I’m thrilled he’s getting to go and even more thrilled that he’s really excited about playing there. I remember when I was younger and in band. I went to State a few times as a soloist and with the entire concert and marching bands. Perhaps I should have taken it more seriously and I would have done a lot better. Then again, the ADD was already set-in and I couldn’t decide which instrument to play more. I started with flute but that bored me after I achieved first chair. I taught myself to play all of the saxophone family, percussion instruments, and even the entire clarinet family. It was very hard trying to play the contra-alto clarinet when I was too short to reach the mouthpiece as it stood on the floor. I could never get the right amount of pillows or phone books in my chair to have me seated comfortably, but it was a challenge and I wanted to conquer it.
Looking back, after learning all of those instruments — plus the B-flat scale on the French horn, playing classical guitar, and taking the requisite piano lessons all of my friends and I seemed required to do — if I could have just picked one I might have been pretty good. I became our conductor’s “jack of all trades” in high school. He wanted a certain instrument added to the band that no one else was playing, so he’d hand me one from the school’s vault where old instruments go to die and have me teach myself. Usually it worked out well. I didn’t make us sound worse, at least. However, the oboe and I fought for about a month until I thought I was going to pop my eyeballs out of their sockets trying to play the double reed. That one I happily gave back and said I wasn’t going learn it.
Maybe someday I’ll start playing again. Eldest Son played the trombone but tired of it after high school. We used it and my old flute (couldn’t believe the amount of money they gave me in trade for the old thing!) to purchase Younger Son’s trumpet. For now, I just listen to the soundtrack of music I love in my mind and dream of being the person playing or conducting and feeling the goosebumps arise. It’s cheaper and doesn’t annoy the neighbors.