My parents took me to the choose-your-instrument-day at school the summer before sixth grade. We all assumed I'd choose something small to go with my stature, so I started on clarinet. I hated the way it tickled my mouth, so I tried flute. I couldn't even produce a sound! I wouldn't play trumpet because my brother did, and I didn't like how the French horn sounded. I surely don't have the rhythmic talent for percussion, and one of the boys who picked trombone really aggravated me. Then I tried an old Conn 3-valve baritone, and it was like Goldilocks trying Baby Bear's porridge. Juuuust right.
My parents didn't believe I'd stick with such a large instrument, but I loved it immediately and never considered anything else. Well, my band director quickly upgraded me to a YEP-321, but you know what I mean.
Wessex Dolce
"Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things -- trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones." - Puddleglum in "The Silver Chair"