Squirrels

 The family moved to our neighborhood in the late 1970s, when the houses were about three years old, the trees were tiny, and no one had fences. The area had previously ben a farm. We were overrun with rabbits. We had a lawn, but we couldn't grow anything without it being eaten to the ground by the bunnies. 

Over time, the trees grew taller, there was much more shade, and the rabbits gave over to the squirrels. 

I grew up partly in Connecticut. Our house was at the end of the street, on what appeared to be a small hill, but was actually a boulder. Southwestern Connecticut is full of rocks, as is much of New England. Dipping down on the back and one side of the back lawn was a woods with very tall trees that surrounded the yard. It was a great place for kids to play and also for the squirrels. 

We had a cat and dog, a dachshund, at the time. Our dog was kept on a long chain when she was out, but we let our cat roam the neighborhood. (He was fixed - no kittens!) There were a number of cats who had homes, but who patrolled the area without restraint. And no, I wouldn't let a cat do that today.

The squirrels, up in their tall trees, loved to harass and tease both the dog and cat by throwing hickory nut shells down on them. Our cat would pretend indifference, looking around with that cat insouciance. Our dog, on the other hand, would race around barking in indignation.

Fast forward -- when my husband and I bought our house, it was in a fairly new suburb of Chicago that had previously been farm land. The neighborhood was filled with rabbits. It was very difficult to grow anything because the rabbits ate everything was soon as it came up. 

Over the years, the trees got larger, the rabbits went somewhere else, and the squirrels moved in. There was one year that squirrels tried to chew their way into our attic, but we were able to take care of that. We still have squirrels but they stay in the trees. I find them fun to watch. One year I happened to see three babies emerge from their nest for the first time and scamper down the tree after their mom. It was adorable. 

I still like to watch the squirrels. There are two, sometimes three, who hang out here. I'm retired; I can drink my coffee, read the paper, and observe the squirrels.

Bolero!

 I play French horn in a community orchestra in Waukegan, Illinois. We had a concert yesterday. There were several pieces on the program, including Bolero, by Maurice Ravel. It's quite popular, so you may be familiar with it. Basically Ravel wrote a theme and repeated it many times, passing it from instrument to instrument in the orchestra. Meanwhile, the snare drum player is repeating a pattern over and over through the piece. 

Most  orchestral works have four horn parts, though some have only two, and others have varying numbers up to 12 or more. In the Waukegan Symphony, the horn section rotates parts so players switch around. For Bolero, I got the first part. One reiteration of the theme is a solo for the first horn. It's quite high and very exposed. 

An aside, the horn has a very large range: from lowest possible note to highest is close to  four octaves. Most horn players cannot play all those notes. Generally horn players are stronger at either the low range or the high range, but not both. Though there are exceptions, of course. I am, at heart, a low horn player, though I frequently play the high parts in my community groups. 

I practiced diligently to be able to play that solo. At that last rehearsal the conductor unexpectedly asked me to play by myself to demonstrate how he wanted it phrased. I had paid attention to what he wanted and he noticed. Nevertheless, I was quite nervous about the concert. 

I prepared carefully on the day of the concert. I reminded myself that the conductor clearly liked the way I played it. I focused. It went really well! I got a solo bow, along with the other musicians who also had their turn at the theme.

I felt very relaxed after the concert. My husband and I went out to dinner, which incuded a glass of wine.

Next weekend: band concert. Much less pressure, though.

If you'd like to see/hear a video of Bolero, here is Daniel Barenboim conducting the BBC Proms orchestra. Barenboim is a former music director of the Chicago Symphony. We saw him many times with the Chicago Symphony, including conducting Bolero. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s_pSJOkmYBA

Bad Books?

 I was idly skimming “The Writer’s Circle” on FB when I came across a post that started “What book was so bad that you couldn’t finish reading it?” There are all kinds of responses. Books that I agreed were not worth finishing, books that I love, and of course, books I am not familiar with. 

Quite a few people listed Moby Dick, which I have not read. I have heard that there are many pages about the technical aspects of whaling. Others listed books that I love, like Jane Austen novels. 

One year in high school English class we had to read “coming of age” novels. We were assigned one of three books: Huckleberry Finn, A Separate Peace, and Catcher in the Rye. I got A Separate Peace. I hated it. I wished I was reading Huckleberry Finn. (I did later read Huckleberry Finn and Catcher in the Rye.)

I had a cassette tape years ago of a storyteller that I liked. Unfortunately I don’t remember her name and I lost the cassette. She was local to the Chicago area. She told a hilarious story about reading a novel on her summer vacation. She was staying out in the country, by a lake. She had found a novel in her accommodations and went out to sit by the lake to read. The novel (she didn’t give the title or author for obvious reasons) was the tale of a woman who had sooo many adventures. She was shipwrecked, lost her memory, and was rescued by a man who ran a brothel, but did not make her work there. She was married multiple times in the course of the story and had a LOT of children. As I remember, going on 20 kiddos. 

As I listened I realized, “I read that book!” I don’t remember the title, but it was clear it was the same book. 

At the end of the novel, she meets, or re-meets, I don’t remember that detail, the love of her life. And the book concludes with their happily ever after, including that he will “give her children.” The storyteller (on the tape) says, “More children?! MORE children!!?” She starts ripping pages out of the book and finally throws it into the lake. She then says she feels better. 

I haven’t ever thrown a book into a lake, but I have hated some books. 

I wonder if everyone has novels they just couldn’t finish reading. Do you have one? Or more?

A Tiny Love Story

 The Sunday New York Times has a column titled “Modern Love” in which different writers relate a love-related story from their lives. It’s really nice. Included in the space is “Tiny Love Stories,” also by various writers, “regular people.” You get a total of 100 words to tell your story, making it an interesting writing challenge. I decided to give it a try. I submitted it, so we'll see! In any case, it was fun to write.

Meet Cute

It was 1976, summertime. A fellow French horn player was going on vacation and asked if I would sub for her in a summer band. At the first rehearsal, one of the tuba players approached me and asked, “What kind of horn (brand) do you play?” “It’s an Alexander,” I replied. “I play an Alex too!” he said. A couple months later I saw him again at a concert in Chicago. “Hey, I’m a band director. Would you like to teach my horn students?” he asked. A coffee date followed. We have been married for 46 years.

nytimes.com/tinylovestories