Ah yes, the sex appeal. When Mr. Rutherford, my grade 8 teacher, demonstrated the instruments we could choose to play, he put the shiny brass trumpet to his lips and played a series of thrilling notes. I recognized the rousing theme from “The Lone Ranger”. Light glinted off the brass.
I shot my hand up. “I’d like to play that,” I said. I looked around; half of the boys in the class had their hands up, like me.
The prettiest girls in the class flocked to the flute. As they played, their soft, long hair fell around the instrument, making my heart flutter.
Thank you for taking us right into that music room. PS: thanks to my late Mum and Dad, I'm a Duke Ellington and Benny Goodman fan. Big bands 40's and 50's style are marvellous. But in their day, so was the Tijuana Brass.
This was hilarious. All of us fear being exposed as faking our way through something (life, playing the trumpet, etc) but you got caught - and survived! Thanks for such a vivid, almost cinematic description of a crystalline moment of dread at the height of adolescent vulnerability, when we start to fake being adults.
I loved this story. It reminded me of my humiliating musical experience. Because I could dance, friends convinced me to audition for West Side Story during my sophomore year in undergraduate college. About thirty minutes before the audition, I discovered that I had to bring sheet music that I would sing to. I ran from dorm to dorm, because each had a piano, looking for sheet music. The only music I recognized was Bob Dylan's Blowing In the Wind. A cute auditioner was sitting in the front row, eyes locked with mine, her face displaying a mixture of pity and hopefulness. Shaking and sweating from embarrassment and fear, I had to stop and restart several times before a voice in the back of the auditorium commanded, "Please, just sing Happy Birthday." I didn't get the part.
This is a wonderful story, thank you.
Ah yes, the sex appeal. When Mr. Rutherford, my grade 8 teacher, demonstrated the instruments we could choose to play, he put the shiny brass trumpet to his lips and played a series of thrilling notes. I recognized the rousing theme from “The Lone Ranger”. Light glinted off the brass.
I shot my hand up. “I’d like to play that,” I said. I looked around; half of the boys in the class had their hands up, like me.
The prettiest girls in the class flocked to the flute. As they played, their soft, long hair fell around the instrument, making my heart flutter.
The sound of that horn still echoes, John. Your memories come vividly alive.
Such a funny (and perhaps poignant) story.
Teenage years are full of cringes, aren't they?
Thank you for taking us right into that music room. PS: thanks to my late Mum and Dad, I'm a Duke Ellington and Benny Goodman fan. Big bands 40's and 50's style are marvellous. But in their day, so was the Tijuana Brass.
This was hilarious. All of us fear being exposed as faking our way through something (life, playing the trumpet, etc) but you got caught - and survived! Thanks for such a vivid, almost cinematic description of a crystalline moment of dread at the height of adolescent vulnerability, when we start to fake being adults.
I loved this story. It reminded me of my humiliating musical experience. Because I could dance, friends convinced me to audition for West Side Story during my sophomore year in undergraduate college. About thirty minutes before the audition, I discovered that I had to bring sheet music that I would sing to. I ran from dorm to dorm, because each had a piano, looking for sheet music. The only music I recognized was Bob Dylan's Blowing In the Wind. A cute auditioner was sitting in the front row, eyes locked with mine, her face displaying a mixture of pity and hopefulness. Shaking and sweating from embarrassment and fear, I had to stop and restart several times before a voice in the back of the auditorium commanded, "Please, just sing Happy Birthday." I didn't get the part.
So enjoyed this. Reminded me of “cringes” in high school, and admired your ability to weather it!