Cornet

Cornet: (n) a valved wind instrument of the trumpet family.

Mr. Rallihand.

He was my junior high school band director.

I didn’t think much about him—he was just another teacher. When you’re that age, you look at all those who are educating you as mean funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
eighty-year-old grown-ups.

Yet I did get him to smile—because unlike many of my fellow-band-mates, I chose not to play the saxophone or clarinet as my primary instrument.

I picked trumpet.

He explained to me what a noble instrument it was—how it beckoned armies into battle and punctuated the victories of the Roman legions.

(I lost interest.)

He told me where to go to find a trumpet to rent.

I gave the information to my mother, and she came back with a horn. Now, I was no expert on the mechanics or appearance of trumpets—but this one was smaller. When I took it to band class, Mr. Rallihand frowned at it like it had just tooted foul gas.

He said that this was not a trumpet but rather, was a cornet. He then launched into a lengthy explanation, of which I only remembered two thoughts:

  1. Small
  2. Harder to play

So as I squawked out my first notes on my cornet and Mr. Rallihand patiently instructed me on how to squeeze my lips into the mouthpiece to produce tone, I had the perfect out.

“But Mr. Rallihand,” I whined, “it’s smaller. And hard to play.”

I think he regretted sharing that with me.

Finally, one day he walked in carrying a new trumpet which the school had just purchased for the band program. He handed it to me, and I made my way back to the row of the “trumpeteers.”

I was sad to the point of anger. Not only was I no longer special with my trumpet-with-shortcomings, I also now had no excuse for sounding like crap.


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Antony, Mark

dictionary with letter A

Antony, Mark: (83-30 B.C.) Roman general and triumvir. Following the assassination of Julius Caesar, he took charge and established his relationship with Cleopatra.

How shall we be remembered?

I guess it doesn’t cross your mind very much when you’re twenty-one years old. Matter of fact, in your forties, you’re still trying to gain some footing and clarify your position.

But somewhere along the line it occurs to you that you have lived more of your life than you have left to live.

Once you get over this startling realization, you can ask yourself a valuable question: “Three months after I’m dead, if someone mentions my name, what images will it conjure?”

I think about this as I consider Mark Antony.

He obviously was a very powerful fellow. When the Roman Empire went through a brief season of having three “caesars,” he was one of them. Pretty impressive.

Yet what will be his heritage is the fact that he fell helmet over sandals in love with the Queen of Egypt, Cleopatra.

She had some sort of magic that allured men her way, and certainly Mark Antony was not immune. So much so that he abandoned his loyalty to Rome and began to believe that it was his mission to conquer the world with his “flower of Egypt.”

Here are the questions he did not ask himself:

  1. Just because she’s good in bed, does it mean that she knows what to do with an army?
  2. How much am I giving up to be with this woman?
  3. Can we actually pull off conquering the world together, or is it just overwrought pillow-talk?

Because bluntly, the union of these two souls who enjoyed each other in a carnal way–Mark Antony and Cleopatra–was quickly brought to nought by the Roman legions.

So how is he remembered?

As a love-sick puppy who ended up looking like a dog.

 

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