I’m scared. Really scared. Today, Junior takes his first trumpet lesson. Are you listening? Trumpet. Meaning he has to practice. In my house.
Flash back a billion years ago to the year 1976. Little Jody B went to a presentation by the music teacher about all the different band instruments available to the kids at Priest Street School. And Little Jody B chose….the trumpet. Well, I wanted to play the coronet, but the school rental instruments didn’t have one, only a slightly dinged-up trumpet. So for two years, I took trumpet lessons at school, the highlight of which was my solo performance at the annual talent show of the Carpenter’s song “Close to You.” My mom still speaks in awed tones of the brilliance of my performance, and her disappointment that we didn’t continue on with the trumpet when I moved up to junior high, because I wanted to take chorus and you couldn’t do both.
I’m still scared that a 10 year old boy will be practicing trumpet in my house. I remember what my first weeks were like 31 or so years ago. (Good Lord! 31?) It wasn’t pretty.