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If I ever play my horn again--and that's seemed unlikely, of late--I'd like to learn "Tonight," from Leonard Bernstein's West Side Story. One of my old dorm mates at SUNY Fredonia, Bud Pierce, had actually named his horn "Maria" after another song, from the same opus, which had been made famous by high-note prodigy Maynard Ferguson.
Bud, I think, got his degree in music ed, along with a certificate in performance. I dropped out after a year--out of music, anyway, and went on to major in English.
I've been on the verge of dropping out again, although this time beset by the physical challenges of an aging body. I'd arrived at this unhappy place after abdominal pain--from what the surgeon referred to as "core pressure"--had became a daily thing. A result, you know, of pursuing my post-surgery dream of playing the horn again.
So I was ready, at that point, to hang it up. Then, ironically, my life was paused by what's widely considered the scourge of all horn players, the impending loss of my remaining natural teeth. It had even stopped the legendary Chet Baker, for a time, after he lost his in a drunken bar fight.
I had no such colorful reason for this turn in my own life, just bad dental heredity. But in the midst of this pause for bloody extractions, cappings, moldings, and countless fittings--for whatever reason--I've been reconsidering.
What if, after all of this--which I'd previously known was going to mean another restart on the horn--what if other things had somehow miraculously resolved in the meantime? Shouldn't I give it another go, just to be sure?
Right now, in this moment, I'm thinking I may. After the rest of the bloody carnage is done and the final fittings and the "retraining of the jaw" that my dentist talks about, should I maybe try again?
I'm thinking I might. And that I might name my horn "Chet."
Because, you know, "When you're a Chet, you're a Chet all the way..."
[Hahaha, sitting here LMAO, because that's so incredibly bad.]
LPK
Dreamwidth
8.17.2019
Bud, I think, got his degree in music ed, along with a certificate in performance. I dropped out after a year--out of music, anyway, and went on to major in English.
I've been on the verge of dropping out again, although this time beset by the physical challenges of an aging body. I'd arrived at this unhappy place after abdominal pain--from what the surgeon referred to as "core pressure"--had became a daily thing. A result, you know, of pursuing my post-surgery dream of playing the horn again.
So I was ready, at that point, to hang it up. Then, ironically, my life was paused by what's widely considered the scourge of all horn players, the impending loss of my remaining natural teeth. It had even stopped the legendary Chet Baker, for a time, after he lost his in a drunken bar fight.
I had no such colorful reason for this turn in my own life, just bad dental heredity. But in the midst of this pause for bloody extractions, cappings, moldings, and countless fittings--for whatever reason--I've been reconsidering.
What if, after all of this--which I'd previously known was going to mean another restart on the horn--what if other things had somehow miraculously resolved in the meantime? Shouldn't I give it another go, just to be sure?
Right now, in this moment, I'm thinking I may. After the rest of the bloody carnage is done and the final fittings and the "retraining of the jaw" that my dentist talks about, should I maybe try again?
I'm thinking I might. And that I might name my horn "Chet."
Because, you know, "When you're a Chet, you're a Chet all the way..."
[Hahaha, sitting here LMAO, because that's so incredibly bad.]
LPK
Dreamwidth
8.17.2019
