Low Brass

They sat in the back seat talking about their struggles to reach a low B-flat and generally lamenting the lot of low brass.

We just sit there and play the same note over and over for 21 measures! they both said. Ben plays the trombone. Clay plays the tuba. Melodies of Tubby the Tuba echoed thru my head.

It's not even that bad for percussion! They told us.

And there's this kid, Clay said.

He's so annoying, Ben added. Evidently he knew just who Clay was about to describe.

Clay continued, who has a weird haircut and always wants to touch my tuba.

Touch your tuba!? I shrieked. He wants to touch your tuba?

Trudy laughed out loud and turned to them in the back of the car and told them to tell me. She told them to tell me about that kid. She had heard the story before. Clay started over.

There's this guy. He plays the tuba, too.

And he's so annoying, added Ben. He is always quietly playing his tuba when he isn't supposed to. He turned and looked at Clay sitting next to him, I don't think Mr. Edwards knows. Clay nodded.

His hair is buzzed short on the sides and it's cut like this in the front. Clay held his fingers to each side of his forehead, trying to demonstrate something about uneven bangs. And he's always asking if he can touch my tuba.

The sixth grade band doesn't practice as a group, yet. They meet in sections, and it sounds like the low-brass fill the room. Twenty trombones. Some baritones. A half-dozen tubas. Even bassoons. (Yes, bassoons in low brass. Go figure.) And there's evidently this dynamic going on with the anxious kids sometimes playing their music independently while the director is focusing somewhere else. And there's this kid reaching over and touching other peoples' tubas.

I can't even being to imagine the scene. Or maybe I can.

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