Words » Junior and his magic saxophone

Chapter 2

I never told my grandparents about the Fat Wayne incident, and I hoped that they wouldn't find out. I knew they would be disappointed in me. After a week or so, nothing much happened, so I forgot about it completely. Then one day, Grandpa and Grandma came into my room while I was working on my math homework.

"You know, Junior, we think it might be good for you if you learned to play a musical instrument. What do you think? It might keep you out of trouble."

"Wow, great! That would be cool," I said tentatively. "What do you want me to play?"

"I don't know, why don't you decide for yourself," said Grandma. "We'll watch TV tonight and you can see if there's any instrument that you would like to play. Okay?"

That night after dinner, on Channel 7, I spotted the instrument I wanted to play. "There! There!" I told them, "I want to play that instrument there." I got up from the couch and pointed to a man holding a golden horn with buttons on the side. We were watching the Lawrence Welk Show, and one of the band members had stood up to play a solo. The dancers swung about, and the sound of the music was dizzying. I heard the music from the golden horn lift up above the orchestra, and swirl around our living room. It sounded like a bird and a woman and a peanut butter and honey sandwich all wrapped up into one. "What kind of instrument is that Grandpa?" I asked.

"That's the saxophone, Junior."

"Are you sure you want to play that? Grandma said. "It seems kind of big. Maybe you can choose the violin, or the flute. They're easier to carry."

"No, those are sissy instruments. I want to play the sax-o-phone!" I said.

"Well if that's what you want," said Grandpa. "We'll go out tomorrow and get you one."

"Really? Really? Oh, I love you so much!" I jumped up onto his lap and threw my arms around his stubbly neck. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

The Brass and Reed Shop was a small but well known music store in the northern part of town. Grandpa found the address in the phone book, and when we arrived, I hopped out of the car and ran into the store to look for my saxophone.

"I want to play the sax-o-phone," I told the man behind the counter. He was wearing a long leather apron, and looked up in surprise as I ran in. He was fixing a broken instrument which was spread out in pieces across his work table.

"So you want to play the saxophone, do you?" he asked suspiciously, stopping what he was doing. "That's a very special instrument. Why do you particularly want to play the saxophone? Why not the tuba or the guitar? Maybe the drums?"

"Nope. I'm sure I definitely want to play the sax-o-phone, I saw it on TV last night, and I like the way it sounds. My Grandpa said he would take me out to buy one today!" I said. "Here he comes now."

"Oh, I see," said the shopkeeper with a smile.

"Looks like you've met Junior then," Grandpa said, tipping his hat and nodding to the shopkeeper. "He's pretty set on playing the sax, that kid."

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the shop, I looked around at all the different instruments hanging up on the wall. There were saxophones, trumpets, French horns, fluglehorns, euphoniums, tubas, baritones, clarinets, flutes, violins, basses, and cellos. There were percussion instruments in a long case along one wall, and overhead, hung parts to maybe a hundred strange instruments. "Wow, these are cool," I said, and picked up some parts to blow through.

"Wait a minute there, son," said the shopkeeper. "You must always treat an instrument with respect. If you do it will be your best friend. So put those pieces down. They're not toys."

"You'd better listen to the man," said Grandpa sharply.

"Oh, sorry," I said, as I put the pieces back to their spot on the wall.

"Now tell me," said the shopkeeper. "Why is it that you want to play the saxophone?" He walked out from behind his workbench and gave me a long look.

"Because it sounds real cool," I replied.

"Is that all?" he questioned.

"Well, it looks neat too."

"So you only have two reasons?" he said.

"I dunno. It's...um, special. That's all. It speaks to you, kinda like a story," I told him.

The shopkeeper stood there looking at me strangely for a long time, then he looked over at Grandpa and winked. "Well, it looks like your grandson here has chosen the right instrument. I think he really wants to play the saxophone." He put his tools into a pocket on his apron, and pointed around the room. "You know, there are many different kinds of saxophones," he said, and he started taking instrument cases down from the shelves. "There's altos, tenors, sopranos, baritones, ah, let's see. How about this one here?" He pulled down a dusty old case from the very back of a shelf and placed it on the counter in front of us.

"Do you want to open it for yourself?" he asked me.

"Okay," I said, and reached up to undo the two brass buckles. The outside of the case felt cool and worn, like a snake I once touched at the zoo. The case was covered in dark leather and seemed to be over a hundred years old. Click click. I unfastened the buckles and opened the lid. It was lined in plush green velvet, and smelled like an old rug. Inside was a glowing and beautiful golden saxophone just like the one I had seen on TV. Up close it looked much more magnificent and elaborate. There were rods and keys running up and down the length of the instrument, and it glistened like a pirate's treasure. "Wow," I said in complete awe. "This is cool."

All the keys were lacquered in gold and pearl, and on the bell part of the instrument, where the sound comes out, there was an intricate engraving of a beautiful lady flying up through the clouds. She wore a long gown, and held a bundle of spring flowers in her hands. "Can I touch it?" I asked the shopkeeper.

"Of course you can," he said. "Why don't you see if she likes you?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

"See if the saxophone likes you," he said. "Go ahead and touch it."

I looked at the instrument for a few more seconds until I decided to press one of the many pearly keys on its side. I reached out, and just as I laid my finger on it, the key instantly closed and popped back open! I pressed all the keys along the length of the horn. Then I ran my fingers along the bell next to the engraving of the lady flying through the clouds. Suddenly I felt lightheaded and dizzy like I was floating through the air, my entire head filled with a strange kind of music I had never heard before. I was lost in a daydream of spinning musical notes, floating through a deep blue sky filled with clouds and exotic perfumes. Far away in the distance, I heard a lonely song being played. It lifted through the clouds like a bird. It seemed so close, I could almost touch it. Then I heard voices from far away.

"Junior, stop screwing around!" said Grandpa. "The man just asked you a question." The spinning suddenly stopped, the clouds disappeared, and the song ended. I was back in the music store again.

"How does it feel?" the shopkeeper asked with a glimmer in his eye. I didn't know what to say. How to respond. How could I ever describe the feeling I just had, the notes, the floating, the deep blue sky? I wondered if this man knew the feeling too?

"It feels special," I said, "Kind of like a dream."

"I see," said the shopkeeper, studying me carefully. He watched me for a long time without saying a word. "Well, then this saxophone must really like you. Would you like to take it home and try it out?"

"Oh yeah!" I said, "Is it okay, Grandpa?"

"Just remember what the man told you," Grandpa reminded me. "You must always treat an instrument with respect. If you do, it will be your best friend. Do you think you can treat this instrument with respect? Are you going to practice it and care for it and not fool around?"

"You bet!"

"I didn't ask you to bet, Junior. I said, do you promise? This is a commitment you must take seriously."

"Yes, I promise I promise." I always kept my promises no matter what, because promises were very special. They were special just like this new saxophone.

"Okay then, we'll take it home," Grandpa said.

I rambled around the rest of the shop, peeking into drawers and cabinets while Grandpa took out his checkbook and paid the shopkeeper for the instrument.

"Do you think he's got it in him?" Grandpa asked the shopkeeper.

"Sometimes you just have to wait and see," said the shopkeeper with a strange smile.

We packed up the instrument, bought some music books, and headed for home. It was already beginning to get dark. I was surprised at how fast the time had passed. As Grandpa drove east along Alameda Avenue, the setting sun was turning into a blanket of Indian colors behind us. I looked up at the orange clouds, watching them trail across the purple mountains, and I thought about what my mother was doing now in Japan. It had been four years since my arrival in the United States, and I was forgetting what it was like living with her. The fading sky reminded me of my lonely trip across the ocean, when I passed over the international dateline. All the other passengers were asleep, and a pretty stewardess brought me some Oreo cookies and milk along with a cardboard certificate which said, "Congratulations! You have passed the international date line." She sat down next to me for a while, and held my hand while we looked out together at the thin orange clouds curving across the vast blue horizon.

I looked in the back seat at my new saxophone, and knew that my life was starting to change. Would that special dreamy feeling ever come back again? I rolled down the window to feel the cool evening air, and closed my eyes, trying to listen to the music that was still floating around in my head. For the first time since my arrival in America, I began to feel happy.

 

« Chapter 1 | Back | Chapter 3 »

---

© Copyright 2007 3q2u  §  Powered by Movable Type 2.661
This site has been visited approximately 48836 times.