Low

 I played tuba for six years. Perhaps more to the point: I played Sousaphone for six years. It was only on rare occasions that I was afforded the mild novelty of playing an actual tuba. For those of you uninitiated, they are roughly comparable instruments in the noise that they create, but John Philip Sousa requested that a "marching version" of the low end of the brass family be generated such that it would wrap around the player rather than having to strap a concert tuba to a musician's chest and hope they didn't tip over. 

That distinction made, I can say that I embarked on my low brass career based on a pair of whims. The first of these was the story of my father who "played" tuba/sousaphone in high school band. The quotations are there to denote the fact that he didn't so much play as carry his instrument. He was recruited by a pal of his because it was necessary to have seven sousaphones to be able to spell out BOULDER on their bells. Presentation is everything. So my dad took the gig, and happily appeared in a number of parades and in the yearbook photo showcasing all the members of the Marching Panthers. 

I was a legacy, of sorts. 

The other anecdote that figures in here is the part where I went to a high school football game with my older brother while I was still in elementary school. I was struck by just how much fun the Pep Band was having at everyone's expense, including their own. This goofy behavior was most evident in the antics of the tuba players. Something about lugging that beast around and attempting the impossible feat of remaining discreet while wearing a great chunk of brass and fiberglass. It seemed like a pretty good time. 

Besides, as I mentioned, I was a legacy. 

The problem was that, unlike my older and younger brothers, I had not begun my formal instrumental music training in elementary school. I had years of piano lessons that allowed me to read music and understand just how easy most tuba parts were, but I had no idea how to blow in one end of one of those things to make noise come out of the other. Let alone music. 

So that summer I began my study of the bass clef and the mechanics of Embouchure. Those first few months under the tutelage of the high school band teacher who was in charge of both the marching band and the pep band, should I make it through playing in junior high first. 

Initially, it was suggested that I switch from tuba to baritone, a less cumbersome instrument. And not at all what I had in mind. After some false starts, we were able to find not one but two sousaphones tucked away in the back of the auditorium. I was allowed to keep one at home to save my father from the hassle of having to drive me and my instrument to and from school in order to practice. "You couldn't have chosen the piccolo, could you?" He once asked me on one of those occasions when transporting my choice was the only option. 

Eventually I made it to the big time: High school band. As a sophomore, I was one of only two tuba players who could actually play their instrument. Two others were primarily seat fillers, and when it came time to fill out the rest of the line to spell out BOULDER, ringers were brought in from other sections who were such clever musicians that playing tuba was easy. 

I tried not to take this personally. By the time I was a senior, I was designated Section Leader. And I was elected Pep Band president. Local tuba player makes good. Somewhere in there I harbored dreams of attending Stanford and playing with their infamous not-quite-marching band. That didn't happen. 

After I graduated high school, I hung up my tuba. Or rather I left it in the laundry room of my parents' house until one day it was suggested that I "do something" with it. A certain amount of shame kept me from toting it back to my junior high school from whence it came. Instead I carted it to a used music shop where they looked it over and figured they could use it. As a lamp. 

Sometimes I harbor fantasies about going back to my roots and getting my chops back into shape for one last blast. 

Just to say that I could.