One of the funniest sites I visit is Mark Ruins Dinner. It’s not my brother Mark, but a Mark who shares my kitchen troubles. (Someday I’ll tell you all about the turkey I brined this weekend. Something went terribly, terribly wrong. That’s for another day, though.)
Mark’s challenge is to dust something off from your youth and tell the story. He has an excellent story of his old electric bass. I made a comment on his site about my ukuleles, but here – I’ll tell you about my flute.
It’s actually my sister’s old flute. I started off with a Bundy in 4th grade. One of my hidden talents is/was that I am surprisingly good at something the first time I try it, then have no stick-to-it-ive-ness and then tank mightily. There was no band for 4th graders, but I got to skip Social Studies or something like that and go to 5th grade band. (That explains why I don’t understand politics.)
Anyway, I was pretty hot snot until 7th grade. In 6th grade I chose to stay in at recess and play endless renditions of the theme to “M*A*S*H”, much to the eye-rolling of the teachers, I’m sure. But in 7th grade things started to go south. Stephannie came, and she was good. My no-practice talent started to shake.
Things went really downhill in 9th grade, when Tricia moved to town, and she was guuuuud. By now I had Keren’s Artley, because she got some awesome Muramatsu thing. (She’s REALLY good.) So there I was, 3rd chair. The final blow was when Alison, who had been stealthily practicing all these long years, took my 3rd chair and now I was 4th. That was the end. I knew I wouldn’t practice because, let’s face it – 4th chair doesn’t practice. So that was it. The end of my flouting career.
I never play it anymore. Keren, would you like it back? I’m content with my ukuleles. So there’s the challenge. Post your own for Mark!