Ok, get a beverage and have a seat as this will be a bit long.....
1972 - my father retires after 20+ years as a Marine Band trombonist and we move back to the hometown where he and my mother grew up. And no - being the son of a professional trombonist had absolutely nothing to do with my choice of instrument. It was a girl. A gorgeous, blue eyed blond girl.......
Last day of 6th grade the band from the Jr High we fed into played a concert at our elementary school. The band members wore the usual tuxedo like concert uniform, but the majorettes wore their sexy sequined get-ups. This one particular majorette caught my eye and I stared at her through the entire concert.
After the concert, the band director (who later was our mayor for 28 years) asked who wanted to be in beginner band next year at the Jr High. Naturally I raised my hand, I HAD to meet that girl! He then asked about instrumentation to get an idea of what he'd be working with in the Fall. First, he said trumpet and EVSERYBODY raised their hand. Being the rebel who marched to beat of a different drummer, I didn't raise my hand. Next, he said drums. Well just about everybody who didn't raise their hand for trumpet put it up for drums. I did too as my older brother was a professional drummer and I thought that might give me a leg up, but when I saw all the other hands in the air, I put mine down. Finally, he gets to trombone AND NO ONE RAISED THEIR HAND, so I shot mine up in a heartbeat. I saw the slushpump as my ticket to getting close to that beautiful majorette.
A few hours later I get home, and Dad asked me how my day went. I told him I was signing up for band next year, Naturally, he was happy to hear that, but when I told him I'd picked trombone he was THRILLED thinking I was following in his footsteps. I saw no reason to burst his bubble, so I kept the fact it was all about a girl to myself. I did, however tell my mother the truth. She was amused and a bit sad that "her baby" was becoming a man.
Summer drug by very slowly that year and I did all the usual things a 12 year old does in the Summer - rode bikes, played sandlot baseball and all that jazz. FINALLY, the first day of Jr High rolled around, and armed with my father's USMC issued King Liberty I headed for the band room. The advanced band were coming out of the band hall as we newbies were filing in. I saw my dream girl and introduced myself. She was nice, but obviously annoyed by some punk 7th grader trying to chat her up. No problem. At least I knew her name.
Back home after school, my mother asked me how it had gone with my first day of band. I told her I'd met the babe and had gotten her name. My mother began to smile, then chuckle and then that became a full-on guffaw. "Honey, you can't date her. She's your cousin", she said. Turns out my dream girl was the daughter of my mother's cousin and even though this was in Alabama, the romance would have been frowned upon.
50 years later I became FB friends with that woman and told her the above story. She laughed until her gut hurt and was very touched by it and my puppy love adoration.
BTW - she's still hot, even as a senior citizen.
Ironically, many years later I ended up marrying another majorette from that Jr High school, but as we were in the same gran and not related, it's lasted up until this day.
So, that's how I ended up playing trombone. A combination of lust and stubbornness to NOT follow the crowd and play trumpet or drums.
