Much to my surprise, we have a new trumpet player in the house. Little Smoot had her fifth grade band tryouts the other day, and we were more or less steering her toward the flute or clarinet. We were figuring that these would probably be among the least annoying instruments we’d have to listen to, especially during her formative days of lessons.
Strangely enough, she decided at somewhat the last minute that she’d like to try the trumpet, and follow in Dad Smoot’s footsteps. She said that she liked the idea that I could help her learn to play it since that’s what I played when I was in school, 350 years ago.
Granted, I probably spent more time passing notes back and forth and making fun of our director’s various quirks than I spent actually learning how to play the trumpet back then, but here I am, a role model now.
She hasn’t gotten her Official Rental Trumpet just yet, but she has been toying around with the old ones we have at the house. My brother’s old trumpet is here for some reason, and my old one is still in the basement somewhere. Up until now, I’ve only used them for the purpose of scaring the living crap out of the cat.
I’ve been trying to teach her the basics, and I must admit she has quite a range! She ranges from making the trumpet sound like a dying elephant, all the way to making it sound like a farting hippo. It’ll take some practice.
2 comments:
You know, some friends of ours said their son took up trombone, but wasn't interested in doing much more than taking it into the bathroom and making rude noises with it. Luckily, our son wasn't around to hear that story.
-Wolfgang Anonymous Mozart
"Director's quirks", huh? Roll up your hand if you remember any of them.
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