TROMBONE TALES

 Well, my writing has suffered a long, dry spell and I still don't have much to write about so I will bore you with a trombone story.

As you may recall, some time back I wrote about the reason I can't play the piano....because Mother gave ours to the USO  ,sooo, I learned to play the trombone. No dainty piccolo or flute for little Kay, oh no, however, I truly like the sound of a trombone.  In a marching band the trombone players are usually in the front row because of the far reach of the slide. Our band was invited to march in the Battle of Flowers parade in San Antonio during my flag-carrying stint and I observed that many people just kept sitting on the street curb as the flag went by. Having been taught that one must stand and place a hand over their heart when the U.S. flag is passing, I was appalled at the number of people who were too lazy to stand up as I passed by. Therefore, I developed a little tactic of dipping the flag just a bit toward the sitters, just make them aware of it. The band director put a stop to that but I had thoroughly enjoyed doing it. Playing the trombone while marching on the first row was a lot more fun. 

My boyfriend and I used to be invited to play trombone duets at various venues like clubs and churches. We were really very good.

Evidently the director thought I could play the trombone pretty well because he entered me in the district band contest being held in Kingsville. I memorized the piece I was supposed to play and had it down very well so I was ready. I practiced it one more time while I was waiting for my turn to play and then I went in to the large room, full of confidence. My accompanist played the little intro on the piano, I lifted the trombone to my lips and COULDN'T REMEMBER A NOTE! She kept repeating the intro but to no avail. My teenage brain was shut down! I left the room with my head hung low. That was the last time I tried to use my trombone talent.

That last paragraph about the contest reminded me of another story, although not about trombones. I spent a great deal of time when I was very young taking ballet and tap-dancing lessons and it was inevitable that I was entered into a dance recital sponsored by my teacher. In my hometown, the only stage was in the Rialto movie theater. It was there that I was to perform with my mother's friend accompanying me on the piano. I was all dolled up in my little tutu and ballet shoes, ready to go on when she played the introduction. Well, I froze! She must have played that intro at least three times before someone went out to announce a change in the program. I don't remember what happened right after, but I know my mother was disappointed. Guess I just didn't like ballet dancing.


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