"No, Dad, what?" Of course I did know what my problem was, he told me often enough. "Your problem is you never finish anything. You quit everything you start; bowling, trumpet, Little League, wrestling, Boy Scouts...you never stick with anything." For some reason quitting the bowling league really stuck in his craw, although I can barely remember being in a league, let alone my reasons for quitting it. Maybe he bought me a bowling ball or something. Now, in my defense, most of this stuff I really didn't want to do anyway. My parents, particularly my mother, were really into the idea of the well rounded child - you know- music, athletics, academics -m a strong mind in a healthy body. All I really wanted to do in my spare time was sit around reading science fiction and eating Honeycomb cereal. There were problems with all of my chosen-for-me "activities"; Boy Scouts - no Honeycomb cereal or flush toilets at camp; Little League - I was a pretty good ball player but I got scared of taking one to the cranium so that was out; Wrestling - I could easily beat anyone in the school who was in my weight class (all two of them) but incipient OCD and wrestling snotty, sweaty boys was a bad combination. For some reason I decided to join the marching band, I guess I felt lonely for the company of other nerds. Unfortunately, not playing for 2 years didn't do much to improve my embouchure, I still sucked. So I ended up 4th trumpet, last chair. Embarrassing. Then a treble clef baritone spot opened up and since I was the only one who signed up, I ended up 1st treble clef baritone, 1st chair, bitches. Best of all the bass clef baritone could really play so I'd just march along beside him faking it. We were awesome. My specialty was Windy. She had stormy eyes. Baa pa pa paaa. But I got tired of that, too.
So I went on to quit the Church, college, a marriage, a dozen jobs, drugs and alcohol. Dad was right. I just can't stick with anything. I guess I'm just not a joiner.
And yet you still show up at work every morning. Must be the warm and caring atmosphere radiating from your manager and fellow employees.
I played the Tuba in elementary band. Talk about an band instrument you could fake. I few well placed toots on that thing and you were considered a master. Actually, I think the band director saw me as a sucker willing to lug that big brass boat anchor around. My parents were not much help either. They claimed all my practice songs sounded the same. I eventually quit when they told me I could no longer skip out on regular classes to practice at school. No way I was giving up the kick ball and dodge ball games at recess. Thank God I was smart enough to quit before I had to wear one of those tall fuzzy band hats and a pair of those shiny white shoes to march in the town parade.
Wow, and I thought I was a nerd playing trombone, talking to someone who played trumpet and wishing I was cool like the clarinet players.
ReplyDeleteWell at least you were good at Latin,(but rumor has it you were friends with the teacher.)
Sounds like my parents.
ReplyDeleteAnd yet you still show up at work every morning. Must be the warm and caring atmosphere radiating from your manager and fellow employees.
ReplyDeleteI played the Tuba in elementary band. Talk about an band instrument you could fake. I few well placed toots on that thing and you were considered a master. Actually, I think the band director saw me as a sucker willing to lug that big brass boat anchor around. My parents were not much help either. They claimed all my practice songs sounded the same. I eventually quit when they told me I could no longer skip out on regular classes to practice at school. No way I was giving up the kick ball and dodge ball games at recess. Thank God I was smart enough to quit before I had to wear one of those tall fuzzy band hats and a pair of those shiny white shoes to march in the town parade.
Tubas rule
ReplyDelete