Not me.  Random baritone player from internet-land.

Q: How do you get in touch with a baritone player?
A: Eu-phone-ium.

As I've told you ten times now (sick of hearing about it yet?), I've been a little bit bored and looking for things to do in my new town.  Things to entertain me.  Things to make myself useful.  Things to give me a reason to get out of my pajamas before four o'clock in the afternoon, which I may or may not have done one day this week.  (And by may or may not, I mean I definitely did . . . but I got a few items checked off my to-do list whilst in said jammies, so it's okay, right?  And I was showered and dressed by the time Delecta Daddy got home from work, so no one even noticed . . . )

Looking for options, I picked up a copy of the La Crescent Community Education booklet to see what I could try.  They offered all kinds of things this summer from computer courses to Zumba dancing.  They also advertised their (free, and thus most attractive) community band.

I was a pretty good baritone player in high school.  And by pretty good, I mean I grew up in a small town where there were no such thing as tryouts.  If you showed up, you were in the band.  I wish I had a picture to share -- the baritone was almost as big as me.

So anyway, I showed up for practice one night, thinking it would be like the community band in the little town where I grew up.

Uh, no.  These La Crescent Community Band people are serious.  I took one look at the music and went, oh crap, I am in way over my head.

Granted I hadn't picked up a horn in twenty years, so I was bound to be a little rusty, but one page of music had so many notes on it that I was instantly intimidated.  And I was pretty sure I didn't know how to play some of those high notes and low notes even when I was playing every day in high school band.  When did the baritone range double??  Yowza.

The other thing that became clear very quickly?  I wasn't likely to improve my social scene with this group.  I'd say it's about 1/3 high schoolers and 2/3 retirees.  Bummer.

But here's the thing: as we played a song that had "Tis a Gift to be Simple" incorporated throughout it, I got teary eyed.  You'll laugh if you were never in band, but if you were, I think you'll understand.  There's something about adding your line to everyone else's and creating this beautiful noise . . . you just feel like you're a part of something amazing, so I decided to stick with it, even if I did play only a quarter of the written music while the old man beside me hit everything I missed.

Turns out I really am an amazing baritone player, and here's why: I know when NOT to play.  Examples: that note's too high, that note's too low, that's a sharp I don't remember the fingering to, that measure has too many notes in it, etc.  Why pressure myself to be amazing?  Heck, it's community band playing in the park, not professionals playing in a concert hall.  It's supposed to be FUN.

And geekily enough, I had fun.  And you know what?  A lot of stuff came back to me in the past month, practicing alone or playing with everyone else.  Tonight while warming up I even busted out a riff from a piece we played back in high school.  I don't know if it was muscle memory or what, but bap-bap-bap-ba-da-bah . . . out came this run from somewhere deep in my brain.  Who knew it was still in there?

Oh, and a little old lady totally validated my existence as we packed up our horns.
Her: Did you have a busy day today?
Me: Well, I ordered all of my wedding pictures, so it was nice to get that done . . .
Her: Oh, did you just get married?
Me: Yep, in June.  And then this afternoon I baked cookies.
Her: Oh, then you DID have a busy day!

We'll go with that.  And I even changed out of my pajamas before I started baking!  Whoohoo!