When I was in Jr. High School, my parents decided I
needed to play a musical instrument. Whether it was to build character or keep me busy, I'll never know. Up to that point, I had shown neither interest nor aptitude in music. However, it wasn't long before my mom came home lugging a used cornet in a gigantic gray suitcase. "I got a great deal," she said, "a friend at work wanted to get rid of it and I told her I'd take it." For the uninitiated in brass instruments, a cornet looks and sounds very much like a trumpet.
I hated that gray suitcase from the moment it came through the door. It didn't help that on my first day in cornet practice, I found I was the only girl in an army of grunting, snorting, salivating boys who cared more about body noises then creating music. Every minute I had to spend with those "guys'' and with the "cornet" was nothing short of teenage torture. To get even with my parents I threw temper tantrums filled with a few choice words that only a teenager can come up with. I even left that gray suitcase at home, on the school bus, and anywhere else I could think of to purposely lose it! No matter what I did; my parents were unyielding. They had spent "good money" on that [blankety blank] cornet, and they stood by their decision to provide a musical education for their daughter--whether she liked it or not. After many tears and threats on my part--a compromise deal was finally struck. If I continued in band, I could switch instruments.
I quickly chose the drums as my new instrument but was just as quickly disappointed by my Band Teacher. "No," he said, "there are too many drums already." Hoping not to break down in another bout of tears, I asked what would be easy to learn. I proclaimed I'd already wasted several months of "blood, sweat and tears" on the cornet and was falling behind the rest of the band. He suggested the "clarinet". He promised it was "easy to learn and easy to play".
And that's how I became a clarinet player--at least for three years in Jr. High. As I look back, I readily admit not all of it was horrible. In fact, I made some wonderful friends amid my fellow clarinetists. You must understand, there is a universal truth among band members--they're very willing to accept you for who you are, and like you in spite of it.
Today 40 years later, I have traded in the clarinet for a new
instrument. I've been taking piano lessons for three years now. In all honesty, I
love the music but not so much the practice. As far as the clarinet goes, I've forgotten all and can't play a single note even if I wanted to. But I have two sons who picked up where I left off and play very well. Oddly enough, they both wanted to play the drums, too, but their Band Teacher said "No" there were too many drummers.
Just in case anyone would ever assume I pushed them toward the clarinet--nothing could be further from the truth. It was my husband's beloved stories of High School Band that piqued their interest. His stories mesmerized and romanticized the idea of being a part of Band. However, when my sons asked "me" what instrument they should choose after drums were taken off the table-I repeated what my Jr. High Band Teacher once said to me about the clarinet "it's easy to learn and easy to play".
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