Hi readers. Thanks for coming by for a read.
1951 I fell madly in love with a song on the radio: Trumepeter’s Lullaby. So naturally around 1955 when Central Grade School began scouting around for kids who wanted to play instruments in the band I announced, “I shore do!”
But half the boys lining up to sign wanted to play the trumpet. Probably the glamor of it looking so similar to a bugle, which we’d all seen in John Wayne movies, along with various war movies. And Frank Sinatra’d been a trumpet player in something to draw our attention.
Okay. My parents assured me I could learn to play Trumpeter’s Lullaby on a trombone as well as Anderson played it on a trumpet if I worked hard. Besides, someone they knew had a trombone the kid outgrew and I could have it for the price of a little oil and Brasso.
So I worked myself something awful on that trombone for the rest of grammar school, right on up into Junior High Band. Learned to read music as long as it was following a bass clef lead. And damn me, never could play anything as well as I could play taps or reveille. Sounded really good on a trombone.
I did learn to play Mammy’s Little Baby Loves Shortnin Bread.
And I did a fair job on Under the Double Eagle.
But taps, reveille, Mammy’s Little Baby Loves Shortnin Bread, and Under the Double Eagle does not a band member make. Never could bring myself to learn anything else and finally Mr. Jackson, the band director suggested I try choir. Move on to greater horizons, sort of thing.
So hell, I did. Never joined the choir, but I spent a good many years singing Mammy’s Little Baby Loves Shortnin Bread until it became rude to do it for other reasons than my voice.
Likely as not if I live long enough I’ll take up the trumpet, though. I never cared for that damned trombone.