There are a few times in my life that stick out in my mind daily. I think of Italy every single day. Early mornings always remind me of April 2001 and the UCLA shuttle. And there are people that, in some capacity, my mind will devote a few seconds to each day wondering how they are and how they would react to something I've seen. These days, I wonder how I will look back on this time in my life.The other night in French class, the word "clarinet" came up. (Or as they say in French, "clarinette".) My mind wandered to when I was 14 and my trusty plastic Yamaha clarinet was such an important part of my daily life. I remember how proud and pleased I was with myself when I made first chair that year. I remember how much I had practiced and what a big deal it was for me; and how nervous I was whenever the whole band was tuning and I had to play the B-flat concert, hoping the pitch wasn't off because of my embrasure or because I had a cheap clarinet. I remember taking pride in sitting in that plastic chair right next to our conductor, with a feeling of importance so symptomatic of adolescence. And the few times I had solo moments, how equally thrilled and petrified I'd be. Eventually, I quit band. And we gave that clarinet to a family friend who was starting out in eighth-grade band, and then he quit band. And in French class we started talking about some other word, so the memory lapsed, too.
My clarinet is probably sitting in a garbage dump somewhere. Or maybe it's in that kid's closet, filled with mildew and scrapes from the musicmaking of two different teens. I wonder a lot now about the objects and pasttimes I have left behind. I wonder if those toys miss me, as much as I miss them.
I've had a few excellent conversations today and it's not even noon yet. We've chatted about the inns of British Columbia, power lunches with sports agents, dating as a tennis match, my backup career hosting a home and garden show. It promises to be a good day.
posted by Lucy Sloan @ 11:08 AM
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