Alc.
Member
- Messages
- 705
- Location
- High plains of N/W New Mexico.
When I was twelve I learned a classmate of mine had a saxophone for sale. My folks bought it for me. I got it home and could not get anything but squacks and squeals out of it. Frustrated, I banged it on the floor and the mouthpiece cover dislodged from the neck. I'm here to say that there are times in life that one remembers. And I don't think that I will ever feel more like a musician than I did at that moment. I produced a few clear notes, and my folks smiled. That meant a hell of a lot. (I still have the old White C-melody)
