First coronet

Disclaimer:  post written by a tin eared grandma.

At the end of last semester Uncle Tom and I went to Laura’s band performance.  There are two bands in her elementary school, the Tuesday/Thursday and the Wednesday/Friday.  Each has sixty five or so members.  At the end of the performance the band teacher said we heard the group all playing the same note; next semester they will learn harmony.

Uncle Tom said that little girl plays a nice trumpet; with a little more direction she could be even better.  Now, Uncle Tom knows how music is made.  He played trumpet in his own high school band back in 1960-something and he never hesitated to send her back to replay the last ten minutes of her twenty minutes per evening of practice, or make a change in her breathing, or whatever one does to a trumpet.

For Christmas he gave her a music stand for practice.  “She sits on her bed, looking down at that music, and that’s no way to play a trumpet!”  So, every evening, after the dishes, we are treated to twenty minutes of trumpet notes floating down the stairs.  I enjoy it, and often can name the tune.  Sometimes Uncle Tom remarks on the music and goes up to make a correction.

Laura took some teasing at the supper table recently; apparently Emily and Hamilton, who also play musical instruments in the high school band, realized Laura has put in a lot of time on a single piece lately.  Uncle Tom cut off their teasing; even if Laura didn’t play a good little trumpet, she’s his favorite great niece. “Tell them what you’re doing, Laura.”

“I’m trying out for first coronet.”

Some time was spent explaining to grandma that a trumpet can play the coronet part.  Several little trumpet players were given the music and there will be a tryout soon.  The piece is called Snap, Crackle, Bop.

Hamilton teased Laura, she was challenging the other players.

“No I’m not; I’ll just play it the best.”

I told Laura it was admirable to strive to do her very best.

“Yes, Gramma.  I want to sit in first chair, too.”