Today I realized, with jolt of surprise, that it’s been almost three and a half years since I last touched my trombone.

Alright, so back-up: In fifth grade I eagerly joined band, with the flute as my chosen instrument. I actually chose it because after watching other band students struggle with gigantic instruments on the bus for five years, I wanted to play the smallest instrument available. Hence the flute, which I loved to play – still do, I suppose, if I was enough certain where that pesky little case has got to. Anyways – in junior high, the OSU Marching Band came to town, & I was hooked. I’ll not get into that story today, but needless to say, a flute doesn’t cut it in an all-brass band. In high school I switched to trombone, & once I chose to study music in college, I devoted my life to the silly & haunting sounds of that instrument.

I was never what one would call a “good” trombonist – heck, I was never even a good musician. I dislike practicing on my own (sectionals & full ensemble rehearsals? bring ‘em on!), which of course made lessons rather painful, & my ear is less than spectacular. I do remember a moment midway through my third year when I had that amazing ephiphany every music student has, when you realize why there’s so much history & theory & ear training & etc – I remember falling back in love with music then. I also realized, however, that I really do lack the talent to be a great teacher, & that I also lack the discipline to work for it in lieu of natural talent. But, I understand music from a place only a precious few these days truly can, & my life is better for it.

Thankfully, I had a wonderfully patient trombone professor who didn’t kick me out of his studio (as so many other teachers would have), & due to my increasing performance anxiety, allowed me to perform a pseudo-senior recital at my parents’ church back home. I did this, surrounded by friends & non-judgemental faces, & then I took apart my trombone, zipped up the case, & packed it away.

That was in May 2006. & this, my friends, is a tragedy. I think it’s time to dig out my Bach 42B (given name Percy), & get to work on those long tones & lip slurs. It’s going to take me a good long while to reach that G once more; even longer to hit pedal Bb, but three and a half years is far too long a time to be away from music. Eventually, I’ll have access to a piano & will re-learn to play (third time’s a charm, right?), & mayhaps I’ll finally learn some basic chords on guitar.

Can you hear that? It’s Rochut, calling me home.