Friday, October 4, 2013
Memory: The demise of the trumpet
Jess and I were talking to Jackson tonight about art and how music is a form of art, which brought back this:
When we were young Dad had a trumpet stored in the closet that he had played as a kid. Every so often we would take it out and make sick cow sounds trying to play it. It wasn't very often that we got our hands on it, and Dad didn't play it unless we were trying to. The valves needed to be greased in order to make the notes, and the slides probably didn't move either.
One night Brian and I must have been home alone with Dad when he got a wild hair. I bet he was working on a deadline for a project, but I have no idea. He suddenly had an idea, a Dad idea, that had to do with the trumpet. I don't know if we had the trumpet out or not, but suddenly dad had a chain tied to the trumpet, and the other end he connected to the rear of the van. Brian and I were certainly intrigued and caught up in the excitement of what was about to happen. Dad loaded us into the back of the van in some storage compartments where we could watch out the back windows. Then we went driving around the neighborhood towing the poor trumpet behind. It was dark out and the trumpet made some magnificent sparks against the pavement. Brian and I were laughing and mesmerized by the destruction of the instrument. We were certainly into the destruction of objects; cars (Car Wars), school projects, large cardboard boxes, etc.
We drove for a while until the small chain actually broke and left the trumpet in the road. Dad stopped pretty soon after that and went to retrieve what was left of the trumpet. He seemed to almost immediately have remorse for what we just did. I'm sure he was thinking what Grandma Jessie would say if she were to ever find out what we did that night. I remember the trumpet still seemed in pretty good shape considering, and one of us may have even tried to get some sound from it. I think Dad brought the trumpet home but I don't remember exactly where it went after that or what he did with it in the end.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Hahaha, nice story! I thought he ran over it or something, but this story is much better than simply running over it! I loved your descriptions, and I could totally envision where you and Brian were standing. I liked that old Chevy Van and it's various hiding spots and the way the captain chairs in the middle spun around. I also thought it was funny that the van had actual blinds and a real cooler. I remember crawling under the back bench to go out the back of the van, too. All of this exploring and playing while driving from Price to Provo through the canyon. Mom and Dad were certainly more forgiving and lenient than I would be with my kids if in the same situation. Or maybe it was just Dad that was lenient... :)
Post a Comment