A TROMBONE
My Dad was a self-taught musical genius. From the time he was a toddler toddling up to the screen door to listen to the sound of the wind blowing through the screen to the time he went to see the marching band at the fair, music was his life. When he saw the band with the slid-trombones he was hooked. He and his mother dragged out the Sears and Roebuck catalog and turned to the instruments. And there it was in all its bright and shining glory.
Dad taught himself how play by siting beside another fellow and listening to him and following along. Soon he was able to play on his own. He played in the Army band and local bands in Boston. Then his folks moved to Maine and he joined some other guys who played wherever they could land a job..
After marriage and a move to the farm, he decided to get up his own dance band and play at the local barn dances. And so the years passed by and soon my sister and I were old enough to tag along to the dances. I loved to dance and he loved to play and so we had some good music time. Dad passed away at the age of 89 and so with him went the love of hearing him play that trombone.
But God has a way of giving us memory gifts. Now that I am getting up in years, quite often I take an afternoon nap. Every time I lay down on the couch to take a nap, my husband, Al, will pick up the TV remote, turn to the music channel and put on "Beautiful Instruments". I would lie there half a sleep listening to the beautiful music that God has put into the hearts and minds of people who can take just 7 notes and do so much with them. Then I would hear the trombone and instantly I could see my Dad standing there and playing the instrument that was the love of his life. Oh, thank you God for such a memory. One that I can enjoy over and over again, every time I hear someone playing the trombone.
Shirl
Dad taught himself how play by siting beside another fellow and listening to him and following along. Soon he was able to play on his own. He played in the Army band and local bands in Boston. Then his folks moved to Maine and he joined some other guys who played wherever they could land a job..
After marriage and a move to the farm, he decided to get up his own dance band and play at the local barn dances. And so the years passed by and soon my sister and I were old enough to tag along to the dances. I loved to dance and he loved to play and so we had some good music time. Dad passed away at the age of 89 and so with him went the love of hearing him play that trombone.
But God has a way of giving us memory gifts. Now that I am getting up in years, quite often I take an afternoon nap. Every time I lay down on the couch to take a nap, my husband, Al, will pick up the TV remote, turn to the music channel and put on "Beautiful Instruments". I would lie there half a sleep listening to the beautiful music that God has put into the hearts and minds of people who can take just 7 notes and do so much with them. Then I would hear the trombone and instantly I could see my Dad standing there and playing the instrument that was the love of his life. Oh, thank you God for such a memory. One that I can enjoy over and over again, every time I hear someone playing the trombone.
Shirl
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