Blast from the Past
With no purpose in mind, I accidently went through a long-forgotten box in my closet. I've moved enough that I have boxes which seldom get opened and examined. Instead, they get moved whole from one house to another.
In this particular one, I found a CD I had forgotten I owned. A fantastic recording of the Asbury Brass quintet from Chicago. It has one of my favorite pieces, the sextet by Böhme. Beautiful writing.
It also has some exerpts of my writing. I had a habit of scribbling down thoughts on whatever piece of paper was close at hand. Some recital programs are saved simply because I scribbled on the edges.
I happened upon thoughts I had put down while I was contemplating one of the defining images in my life: a waterfall in Colorado. If I remember correctly, the bottom tier was only about 15 or 20 feet high, so this wasn't like Angel Falls or something intimidating.
I found some letters from an old friend. They're like journal entries...amazing. Every single one has memories attached to it, images, sounds, and smells that have long sense faded from my own mind. Picking up the paper is like opening a chest containing the moment. Folding the letters up again, the images and recollections fade almost as quickly. How bittersweetly wonderful...
I found a program to possibly the last funeral I attended. One of the first good men I ever met in my life. A man I am still proud of being able to have called 'my friend'. He was a teacher of mine, but I spent a great deal of time with him away from school, probably more so than any teacher. His funeral was hard. I attended it with a good friend, and it was nice to be able to hold on to someone's hand when the weight of reality closes in.
I still have a picture of him on a bulliten board. In fact, I believe it's the only picture of a human being I have out in the open in my house, and even this "picture" is from a celebration card they handed out at the service. I don't oppose pictures, but I seldom got them mounted or given to me as gifts.
On a different end of life's spectrum, I found correspondence and pictures of a wedding! But even this has a sad smile. The marriage ended in frustration and divorce, so I feel somehow guilty for looking at pictures of the happy bride and groom, smiling back at me and standing close. Although, I do get a kick out of the image of me being at least a head taller than everyone else in the wedding party; it makes for some strange lineups. That, and I can never hear the movie title "The French Connection" mentioned without smiling.
And I find a program and photos for a concert that occured almost exactly six years ago (June 4, 2000). A raucus and irreverent trombone quartet, as if there is any other kind. Six years...time to look up some of those people again.
Best wishes to the Young Maiden Wondrous Fair, Model T, and the Bit-meister, wherever you are!
In this particular one, I found a CD I had forgotten I owned. A fantastic recording of the Asbury Brass quintet from Chicago. It has one of my favorite pieces, the sextet by Böhme. Beautiful writing.
It also has some exerpts of my writing. I had a habit of scribbling down thoughts on whatever piece of paper was close at hand. Some recital programs are saved simply because I scribbled on the edges.
I happened upon thoughts I had put down while I was contemplating one of the defining images in my life: a waterfall in Colorado. If I remember correctly, the bottom tier was only about 15 or 20 feet high, so this wasn't like Angel Falls or something intimidating.
I found some letters from an old friend. They're like journal entries...amazing. Every single one has memories attached to it, images, sounds, and smells that have long sense faded from my own mind. Picking up the paper is like opening a chest containing the moment. Folding the letters up again, the images and recollections fade almost as quickly. How bittersweetly wonderful...
I found a program to possibly the last funeral I attended. One of the first good men I ever met in my life. A man I am still proud of being able to have called 'my friend'. He was a teacher of mine, but I spent a great deal of time with him away from school, probably more so than any teacher. His funeral was hard. I attended it with a good friend, and it was nice to be able to hold on to someone's hand when the weight of reality closes in.
I still have a picture of him on a bulliten board. In fact, I believe it's the only picture of a human being I have out in the open in my house, and even this "picture" is from a celebration card they handed out at the service. I don't oppose pictures, but I seldom got them mounted or given to me as gifts.
On a different end of life's spectrum, I found correspondence and pictures of a wedding! But even this has a sad smile. The marriage ended in frustration and divorce, so I feel somehow guilty for looking at pictures of the happy bride and groom, smiling back at me and standing close. Although, I do get a kick out of the image of me being at least a head taller than everyone else in the wedding party; it makes for some strange lineups. That, and I can never hear the movie title "The French Connection" mentioned without smiling.
And I find a program and photos for a concert that occured almost exactly six years ago (June 4, 2000). A raucus and irreverent trombone quartet, as if there is any other kind. Six years...time to look up some of those people again.
Best wishes to the Young Maiden Wondrous Fair, Model T, and the Bit-meister, wherever you are!
From the Professor
Comments
Post a Comment