| Music | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |
At the age of 10, my parents received one of those typical form letters sent to all elementary school children: "Your son/daughter is eligible for free music instruction in our school.... If interested, please have him/her report to Mr. So-and-So to sign up blah blah blah". I was relatively new to the school, and my mother knew I needed some extracurricular activities so I could make more friends, and she could get more peace. She indicated that I'd be taking some music lessons, and asked what instrument I was interested in.
I remembered when I was six, struggling through piano lessons, and how much trouble I had trying to read music without doing that Every-Good-Boy-Deserves-Fun trick with every single note. And so I replied, "Trumpet."
My mother was slightly perplexed. "Why the trumpet?" she asked.
"Simple," I replied. "It's only got three buttons, so I only have to learn how to read three notes."
Now here was the crucial misstep: rather than correct my logic, my mother resorted to a bit of sarcasm. "Well, jeez, if you're gonna do that, then why not take up drums? You won't have any notes at all."
My eyes grew wide. My mother realized that I didn't get the fact she was joking. And the rest, as they say, is history.
I went on to study the basics of noisemaking (jazz and rock drums) with a friend of our family who taught and played them for a living, then migrated to all percussion, including timpani and mallet instruments, where my hope of never having to read music came to an abrupt end. I did the All-County and All-State things a few times to round out the college application, but then gave up pretty much everything but jazz drumming and the occasional band or orchestra pit once I went to college.