The way I remember it is, an announcement was made during my 5th grade class about joining band/orchestra. Those interested, would be excused from regular class when it was time to strike up the band!

I gave this some thought, and by the time I got home from school that day, I knew I wanted to play the violin.

I stood in front of my dad nice and tall, and announced that I wanted to play the violin. He looked back at me like I was off my rocker and said, “You can’t play the violin in church!”

I paused, taking in what he just said. My ten-year-old brain flashed church services from my babyhood up till now and I had to admit, I had never seen anyone playing a violin in church.

I did an about face and as I was walking away, I heard a violin playing for me, its swan song.

Some days later, my dad is walking through the house, heading in my direction, carrying a faded black instrument case.

I eyed the case suspiciously.

I had seen girls at school with cases around this size, but their cases had straight lines and flat surfaces.

The one my dad was handing me had round edges and looked puffy. I was afraid to open Pandora’s box, but I did and my heart sank.

He had bought me a used clarinet!

More shocking than this was the garish red shag like lining it was nestled in.

This will never fly, I thought. I remembered what’s her face opening up her flute case during regular class for whatever reason and I saw that wonderful black velvet lining her shiny silver instrument slept in.

You know, the kind of velvet you just want to roll around in.

Well, thank God, at least the reeds were new…

I walked into band class and sat down. There were girls sitting on both sides of me and I dreaded having to open my case in front of them.

I hastily opened my case, grabbed my clarinet, then shut it closed.

I was on pins and needles the whole time, expecting one of the girls to ask me why my case had rounded edges and looked puffy, but the truth is, no one did.

That was my first and last day of band practice. I knew I didn’t have it in me, to lug around what I thought was an inferior instrument case, much less having to open it, and risking someone making fun of the shag lining.

My parents never did ask me how my first and last day of band practice went.

Yet, when it was time to leave Lathrop, California, I made sure my clarinet came with us to Tucson, Arizona.

One day, during our early high school years, my dad told both me and my sister, Priscilla, that he was going to go through our bedroom and confiscate all the makeup he could find because we were not allowed to wear it.

I remember handing over some of it to him, but we were rebellious and hid some of it too.

My sister picked the perfect hiding place for her Wet n Wild lipsticks. She put them inside my clarinet!

I don’t remember whatever happened to my clarinet, but the memory of my sister’s verboten lipsticks in it, lives on.

From time to time, I bring up the story about my clarinet to my husband, always lamenting that I could’ve been a great violinist.

He always replies that he can only picture me playing a flute.

~missy salcido wead