Wood... Winds Calling
Last night one of my husband’s past teacher friends called.
He was checking up on our now family of three, not including our bunnies and our
piggy.
As the conversation was winding down, I piped up, “I have a
really cool story to tell you.” He replied, “Yeah?” I responded, “Yes, I have
to tell you this. I’ll make it short, ‘cause it’s getting late.”
I began, “So about March 2020, like about ten months ago.
This woman, who I’m writing a memoir for, sends me an old clarinet. She tells
me it was her Dad’s. He was a
musician. But you see, no one else in
the family was. And no one was interested in this old clarinet. So, she found
out my youngest daughter played the trumpet, the mellophone, the keyboard, the
guitar, and recently began playing a ukulele that my husband bought her a bit
over a year ago now. So, I’m basically writing her memoir, and not asking her
for any funds. I’m just enthused to write her memoir, because she is a
fascinating person, that I think many could learn from the stories of her
living.
So, finally I have some time, and I say to my youngest
daughter, ‘Let’s go get this clarinet checked out at the music shop and see if
they can refurbish and freshen it up. It’s got to be at least sixty years old.’
She remarks, ‘Okay Mom.’ I thought she’d say no. Who knew that she might be
enthused. I get to this small music store. I show a woman the clarinet. She remarks,
‘Okay, we will let you know what the estimate is. Just as she is printing out the paperwork,
the man who picks up woodwinds to be refurbished arrives. So, now the clarinet is on its way. And I will
find out more about the clarinet and what needs to be done to make it whole
again soon enough.
Days later, I receive a phone call from music store. They
begin, ‘It’s a LeBlanc, made by Norman Wood. The LeBlanc company has been
around for over one hundred years.’ I inquire, ‘So, what is it like about sixty-five
to seventy years old?’ The person on the phone responds, ‘About that.’ They
continue, “if you except the estimate which …’ the guy rattles off all that has
to be done… ‘it will be four hundred dollars and ninety-five cents.’ I respond,
‘Great. Fix that clarinet. Let me know when it’s done.’ He then responds and
says, ‘Just so you know, the guy who will be fixing it, is named Phil.’ I
think, Cool. I know a lot of guys named Phil. Two are pretty good friends.
Well, come to find out. The clarinet is worth about one
thousand dollars. My brother who died relatively young, played the clarinet for
over thirty years. My deceased husband’s name was Norman. His first degree was
in Botany, he loved wood, the woods, and was a big hiker as well. My original
fight coach’s name is Phil. I have a friend in Canada, her last name is
LeBlanc. All this I did not think about until I got the now fixed instrument home. Then the magic happened.
After putting the clarinet in its’ case down on our living
room coffee table, I set up dinner. Then
I’m ready to go downstairs to write some. I hear at first a squeaky clarinet noise.
After thirty minutes however, I hear music and less clarinet squeaks coming
from my youngest daughter’s bedroom. She doesn’t put it down for nearly two
hours. Then the next day, another hour plus. I think I hear the beginning of an
old cute song. It begins to sound like she knows how to play the clarinet.”
My husband’s old friend remarks, “Wow.” He tells me about
his guitars that he has and his dog. Then I ask, “Did Norman ever tell you how
he proposed to me?” He responds, “No. He never did.” I continue, “Well, his Dad
told him basically to marry me because I was a good cook. And that it’d been
long enough. It was time to shit or get off the pot.” We chuckle. “So June 10th,
1983 a Friday, Norman drives us up to Harriman State Park and he proposes to me
after thirty minutes of hiking, eye to eye he faces me with no one around.”
His friend remarked, “Now that is amazing. Because Norman is
the only one I ‘ve ever known to propose without fanfare in a woods during a hike.
That is how I proposed to my wife. I always told Norman that I was his brother
from another mother.” We then realized
as he told me where he proposed to his wife, that it was along the same
mountain range as Norman had proposed to me in 1983.---Jody-Lynn Reicher
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