No “Joy of Sax”

During my two most  recent visits to The Park, i made a  concerted* effort to locate the missing tenor saxophone that Dad’s mother bought for him as a child.  It is a large instrument, with a case that is at least 4′ x 2′.  Beyond just cluttered, Mom’s house is small.  There are only so many places it could be – none of which bore instrumental fruit.  i (sadly) remain convinced that it’s ‘wandered off’ and been sold…

i sent an e-mail to the rest of the clan when i realized it was gone, letting them know that the sax was MIA.  At the same time, i put out an all points bulletin for two other missing instruments.  First, the alto sax that my sister, T, played in high school – that i’d fixed up for The Girl, hoping she’d follow the path of Lisa Simpson.  Second, the flute that i’d bought for The Girl when she made it clear that she would not be following in Lisa’s footsteps.  Both of these items had been delivered to my niece, DQ, for potential use by her daughter, DQ, Jr. 

No leads from anyone regarding Dad’s saxophone – just protestations along the lines of  “It has to be there” and “None of us would take it” from my oldest sister, S.  The alto was located, as was my flute.  This was as a result of some mildly annoying exchanges with S.  She has both instruments and is “using” them.  This means displaying them in her basement, alongside an old Casio keyboard, some lame-assed print with musical notes on it, and calling this her “music nook”.  (sigh)  That’s not using them.  That’s decorating badly with them.  But i told her i was happy to know the flute was still accounted for and would like it back someday.  Disposition of the alto sax was between her and my sister, T….

i’m generally not much on “things”.  It’s just stuff.  But musical instruments aren’t quite in the category of “stuff”.  Despite the fact that the first guitar i bought has imploded – i paid a whoppin’ $70 for this 3/4 size classical guitar in 1975 – the neck is cracked, keys broken and it’s not repairable.  But i can’t (yet) bring myself to get rid of it.  There is something deeply intimate about an instrument**.

You hold it in your arms.  You work together, learning nuances of touch and response.  The relationship can deepen over time, or lose fire – much like relationships with humans.  Another instrument comes along and the old one can be displaced.  Cast aside, perhaps temporarily, perhaps not…

The idea of displaying perfectly good instruments for no purpose other than to fill space in an unused corner of a basement causes an involuntary eye roll.  So it’s with that thought that i’m hoping Dad’s tenor sax has, in fact, been spared this fate.  If it found it’s way into a pawn shop, perhaps someone wanted it.  Someone bought it.  And i can only hope it’s helping some other young soul earn money for rent while he beats his way forward in life…

Gene Ammons, tearin' it up.

* oh sometimes, i’m just such a card… “concerted”?  *cackle*

**NOT a euphemism, you perverts…