B flat B flat C B flat E flat C . . .
Hap-py Birth-day to me . . .
This year’s birthday I can play this tune for myself!
Long ago, my parents convinced me that I was not musically inclined. This was to keep our house quiet. Like most children however, I longed to make noise, and any noise can be music. The flute was the instrument I most wanted to learn.
In the cult movie Harold and Maude, Maude introduces the young Harold to music (ahem, among other things) saying everyone should be able to make some music. She chooses for him the instrument that most suits him, a banjo. That little snippet from the movie stayed with me because I knew the flute was what I should play. This desire never left me.
I had a bit of music education at school, but was never encouraged to pursue making sounds. Music was kept at a distance.
My Mother took me to classical music concerts because she liked to be a Princess. We’d dress up and shine in our box seats one Wednesday a month. She did not want me to learn music, she disdained the music ‘snobs’ who knew everything about certain pieces, how and why they were written, how they should sound, what they meant. “You should bring your own interpretation to it” she’d admonish me. “Just listen to it and let it take you where it will.” I did derive a great deal of enjoyment from those evenings, and I got to hear some great musicians, including Isaac Stern and Yo-Yo Ma. Musicians had a gift, they were special ‘others’, born to make music.
Then, one day, just a year ago, a friend told me she was buying a piano. She hadn’t played in years and missed it. I casually remarked on my musical inability and how I always wanted to play the flute. Well, she pulled out a piece of paper and in a matter of minutes taught me how to read basic music. “Go get your flute” she smiled.
And I did. A nice student rental.
I even took lessons, until my bank account couldn’t support that any more.
When a tune first appeared from my squeaks and squawks, I experienced magic. Those little black orbs with sticks in them lifted off the page and danced! No longer a passive listener, I became creator! Mary Had a Little Lamb! Ode to Joy! Freres Jacques!
To be fair, I am not a good player. I cannot play a lot of notes on one breath (slur), so I am limited to songs where I can go toot, toot, toot! My octaves are up in the rafters. None of this matters. A year later, a few days before my birthday, I can play the song to myself. A nice birthday gift.
Maybe next year I can buy a flute.