Our Beloved Euphonium Player

In the hands of a fourteen year old boy with a younger brother, the euphonium is not a musical instrument; it's an instrument of torture. The overwhelming urge to practice rarely occurs when younger brother isn't at home. No. It comes upon the fourteen year old boy when younger brother is trying to watch television or listen to tunes. Where the fourteen year old boy practices depends entirely on where younger brother is trying to peacefully enjoy himself. I can pull the fourteen year old boy aside and explain to him that the gig is up, that we all know what he's really trying to do and he will in every instance defend his pure motives, his desire to do his homework, his love of music, etc., etc.

I have visions of hauling my fourteen year old to emergency one of these days with his head stuck in his beloved euphonium which of course would happen after younger brother got thoroughly fed up and smashed it on his "innocent" noggin. He doesn't know it but I think I may have saved his life today or at least spared him time, pain and embarrassment at the hospital by luring him outside to get pictures of him masterfully playing "Frere Jacques" or some equally great tune in all of nature's autumnal glory.

He tooted for a few minutes and I snapped as much of it as I could and then it was over. I guess he got the attention he wanted because he marched back inside and miraculously "practice" was over and brotherly love was once more established as the two trotted off to shoot each other in some video game.