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Pedagogy, Philosophy, and Nonsense Home Essays and Links Creative Non-Fiction The Dawn, the Dark, and the Horse I Didn't Ride in On (an odd, philosophical, semi-romantic meandering) The Mug, the Magic, and the Mistake Trumpet Player, USDA Approved Writing and Education A Major is More Minor Than You Think Thoughts About Picking a Major Reading Poetry and Cloud Watching What's the Subject of a Class? Why Write? Legos, Power, and Control Writing and Einstein: The Difference Between Information and Meaning Writing and the Goldilocks Dilemma Something Somewhat Vaguely Like a Resumé POETRY My Other Related Sites: Showing Class: Writing by Current and Former Students
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Thoughts about Education, Writing, and Experience |
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Trumpet Player, USDA Approved by Forrest D. Poston The guests were seated, and the music was playing. The day, the very moment, was here. As Ginny was about to start down the aisle on her father's arm, my future father-in-law whispered one last piece of advice. "You can still get out of this, you know." To a young groom, Myron Schuster could be a bit intimidating, especially to this groom who was marrying Myron's only daughter. He dealt in precision, in hard facts on paper, and when he turned to humor, that also had precision and an edge that sliced the unwary. Then along came this head-in-the-clouds dreamer who was waiting at the end of the aisle, daring to take his daughter. Fortunately, this dreamer had grown up with storytellers for whom the English language was a continuous game. In an earlier age, I might have been forced to prove myself with a sword, but now it was being able to parry and thrust with a pun that won, if not approval, at least grudging acceptance. Since I prefer to keep my bleeding on a strictly metaphorical level, I'm just as happy to keep my swords on that same level. Ginny was able to walk her father down the aisle, although she claims that he was the one close to tears. Afterward, I had years to appreciate the father-in-law that came with the deal. Some trace of the intimidation may have remained, but our mutual respect was eventually built on more than humor. I also became increasingly aware of the contradictions. The man whose job with the U.S. Department of Agriculture depended on a fine sense of detail, the man who so often seemed to take a hard line on the letter of the law, also seemed to be hiding another man. Perhaps it wasn't so surprising in this family when an older brother worked with computers in their early days and also consulted with police as a psychic. Contradiction and paradox just came standard. A clue came from a casual comment from an old friend of the family. Myron was a jazzman. He had played trumpet in a jazz band in a distant youth. However, he also had a strong interest in a young lady named Gladys, whose family took a definitely dim view of such music and such musicians. Evidently, Myron had a choice to make. He married the young lady, and the trumpet vanished so completely that none of the children ever knew it had existed. The rest of the story is lost because the comment came at Myron's funeral, and Gladys had died several years before. No one else seems to know or remember what happened or had even mentioned that bit of history. Perhaps he simply outgrew that path or gave up a one dream for another. Perhaps he was so bad that the rest of the band asked him to quit, or perhaps a star was never quite born. We'll never know if he forgot the trumpet completely or still dreamed of hitting those high notes. Many of us have good reasons to be glad he chose what may be the road more travelled, particularly because he travelled it well. At least some other things make a little more sense now, like
the piano that was always there, and that underlying impression
that music mattered, even if it wasn't directly emphasized. I
think, just maybe, that it also explains a match that always
seemed both perfect and absurd. The family may not have approved,
and Myron gave up the trumpet, but when the time came to say
I do, I think Gladys was speaking to her music man. Special Note and Favor Request: According to the traffic stats I have access to, a fair number of people visit this site. However, the design of that traffic report is bad to the point of being useless. I will be switching to a different traffic report eventually, but in the meantime, I would appreciate it if visitors would take just a moment to let me know what page or pages they visited and what they think. The how and why you came to the site would be potentially interesting as well. Although the reports claim I'm getting traffic, I only hear from two or three people a year. If anyone has e-mailed and not gotten a response, there's a glitch I don't know about. Thanks. ----------------------------------------------
Would you like to know when the site gets updated? Drop me an e-mail, and I'll add you to the list. Much of my writing has been for the antiques site lately, but I have a long list of essays in assorted stages of revision for this site. The people who e-mail often apologize because they assume I'm swamped with e-mails. I only wish it were true. I'm a teacher from the marrow out, so give me questions. I'm a writer, so I also need an audience. Sometimes that means applause, sometimes rotten tomatoes. From time to time, a student decides to use some of my ideas, or perhaps they even quote me in a paper. Great, I'll take what fame and traces of immortality I can get. However, I should also warn such students that my ideas are not always the things that your teachers want to hear. I'm a stubborn idealist, and that puts me at odds with quite a bit of education theory and literary criticism. Sure, I think I'm right about some things, and I'm sometimes convinced of my own brilliance, but don't jump into the fire blindfolded. FDP |