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| What I Imagined the bassoon to be. |
A while back, towards the beginning
of the semester, I read a story in “Dreams and Inward Journeys” called The Best
Seat in The House. I must admit it
starts off a bit slow but once I found out it was written by a bassoonist who
performs in Youth Orchestra’s my attitude completely changed towards the story.
I suddenly had many questions and was left to ponder the thought, “What is a
bassoon?” Apparently it is a very
difficult instrument to master. Honestly it sounds like an instrument that
would appear in a Dr.Seuss story.
Melissa Burns, the narrator of the
story takes the reader through her brief childhood memory that she had of
herself and her grandfather. We learn that he worked with wood and made this
small beautiful box that is felt lined and over time it lost its “awe” and
began to deteriorate. Eventually it was passed along to Burns. She called it
the “reed graveyard”, she explained it
was the place her reeds went to die. I found this to be disgusting. If this box is so sacred to you and hold such
a deep meaning, why would you want to turn it into a graveyard for your
slobbery reeds? She explained why she
kept her reeds, she said each had a different memory attached to it. I
personally think that is a bit unsanitary. They are all piling up in this box,
and since they are damp from her saliva, who knows what type if moldy bacteria
is growing. I wouldn’t be surprised if she opened the box one day and all her
reeds were green.
Of
course it is one of those stories that dealt with hardship. She tells how she traveled
to Williamstown, MA from Niskayuna, NY just to learn to play the bassoon. Then
we venture with her through Youth Orchestra and how she finally feels a part of
something. All of this is nothing though because we learn that the youth
orchestra is bound to play at Carnegie Hall! She speaks about for for months it
was nothing but continuous hard work and dedication to her bassoon! Finally
when we reach that cathartic moment of the youth orchestra playing in Carnegie;
Burn’s tells of her foreign instructor being composed in the front and how her grandfather
(although dead) smiled and watched from the ceiling. Now here’s the kicker, “From
the time I found my seat on stage until the concert was over, my memories are
blurred.” She doesn’t even remember playing on stage! Something she has always
dreamt of, and it’s one big blur! I was a bit disappointed when I read up to
that point, because I was expecting some grand description of what occurred.
Instead I got an, I forgot. But I guess that’s what happens when you jam so
hard, that bassoon just wipes away your memory!
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