Band Instrument Sales Day becomes Tuba Christmas

Yesterday was band instrument sales day at our house when I tried to sell the used, dilapidated band instruments I paid way too much on eBay for when in 2005 I had this brilliant original idea that I was going to quit the finance industry and apprentice for free at Badger State musical instrument repair instead. Well in retrospect that may have been a stupid idea. But there was an analog to this. I wanted to learn to play some of these old instruments so that I could play next to a Salvation Army kettle and to also play in the Tuba Christmas.

You see I never really got to pick the instrument I played in school. My grandfather played baritone and tuba especially in dance bands in the 30s and 40s. He also played in the US Steel Gary Works Concert Band. Like my band mates Dana Follow, Dennis Norman, and David Rawdon, my grandfather had great tone. Tone can't be taught. But he didn't choose for me. Mr. Hedstrom did. Mr. Hedstrom was one of the coolest people on the planet, even if you throw Johnny Carson in the mix. And, he is an incredible music talent. How he ended up at East Gary I don't know. I am picturing the gods deciding Herb's fate and one of them says, "put him in East Gary, we ought to throw them a bone every once in a while."
I suspect Mr. Hedstrom knew talent when he saw it and he thought to himself this rotund little fifth grader is going to grow up to be a big rotund high schooler and as such he can carry a tuba.
Anyway, Mr. Hedstrom and his cousin Mr. Renn the wrestling coach and assistant football coach were good to me and really looked out for me as my grandfather was dying and especially after he passed away. But, shirley I digress and I won't call you Shirley anymore, I promise.
I never repaid Mr. Hedstrom's loyalty. I improbably went out for football my junior year after submitting to much peer pressure from Gil Miller and Bob Munro. Yes, it went about as well as you would imagine - but I was used to embarrasment and could persevere. But I was not going to be anywhere close to playing in a real game that first year so the deal struck was that me and Jim Penrod, a year younger, would change from football uniform into band uniform, march at half time, and then change back into football gear. Gil Miller didn't have to march with the band that year. See the thing was, Gil played trombone, but Jim Penrod and I played tuba, more specifically in this case the sousaphones, of which Mr. Hedstrom in his musical and marching band wisdom obsessed on having four of. You see three is not symmetrical. Tough to work with three. Two is just not enough bass sound. Yes, and I now see the wisdom, four is the perfect number for a band that has between 50 and 75 participants.
Between my junior and senior years three things happened: I grew, I worked out a lot, and very life changingly my grandfather died on June 4th, 1976. When football time came around, I was actually vying for a starting position on a very good team. I had worked my way up from total embarassment as a football player all the way up to being an average mediocre football player. Not bad for one year's work.
Later as most people know I went on to play football in college. Do you know what an average mediocre high school football player becomes if he works very hard at it in college? Yes, exactly a average college football player.
So back to Mr. H and my non-loyalty. During two a days we were up at the junior high. They were expanding the high school so we couldn't practice there. I knew the showdown was going to happen and sure enough Mr. Hedstrom came to the junior high between practices to approach the subject of his prodigal, glory seeking fourth sousaphone player. I am not sure why but the decision was made by Coach Hamilton that I was needed and couldn't be expected to change at half time and march with the band. I remember seeing Mr. Hedstrom after the meeting. Yes, I did say he was cool and hip, but this cool guy could also get a bit pissed off. He didn't say anything he just gave me that mad and disappointed look, you know the one when it is obvious to everyone in the band that you didn't bother to practice your part. That year I was responsible for causing a three sousaphone marching band. And this is just so wrong on so many levels. I just wanted to be seen as a cool jock not a tuba player. Now here is the interesting part or not. I finished playing college football after 5 years in 1981-82. However I still have a tuba and in my first few years at the Allison Gas Turbine Division of GM where I worked in the metallurgical area (my grandfather coincidentally was a metallurgical tech at US Steel), I played in the final few iterations of the Detroit Diesel Alison Concert Band in Indianapolis playing , you guessed it, the sousaphone.

So last night musical instrument sales day at our house was met with great disappointment when Dan McCourt from 10 hours away by car did not want to make an offer on my mellophone, my dilapidated Eflat upright tuba (did I tell you I was planning to go into instrument repair?), and my alto horn which I didn't know there was such a thing until 2005. Dan did make a $300 offer on my Conn BBflat tuba. At that price I said I would keep it. Dejected, though not nearly as much as my wife Sonia who shares our roughly 1500 square feet living area with my brass menagerie, while Sonia was at her yoga class, with Monday night football on the TV, I broke out an old Christmas carol song book for piano and electronic organ of my grandfathers that dates from 1970 and transposed the keys in my head so I could play over an hours worth of Christmas carols on the BBflat tuba after not playing for at least 25 years to absolutely terrorize my daughter who lives in an apartment below us. It must have been especially embarassing because her boyfriend Chad was over.
So how could I pick up the tuba after 25 years and transpose the music on the fly? Because I have musical aptitude. But as my daughter can now attest and much to Mr. Hedstrom's dissapointment and frustration, I do not have musical talent. Talent is not the same as aptitude.
Anyway, the good news is of all places, Houghton, Michigan here in the UP has a Tuba Christmas on December 13th. See you there or at the one in Chicago or possibly even the one in Indianapolis.
In conclusion I should have marched at half time in the band.
My name really is Earle, so I want to apologize to Mr. Hedstrom for the jerk move of an insecure, testosterone addled, and unappreciative kid. Mr. H deserved better. My band mates deserved better.
I still need to dump some old and arcane brass instruments if anyone is in the market.
Footnote: My daughter never mentioned the tuba playing so I brought it up to her. She said she heard and she was not embarassed because they are used to me by this time.