Slice of life (and sometimes death)

OK, so I'm going to try a slice of life from yesteryear. I knew from a very early age that I wanted to play and perform music. I wasn't exactly a go-getter though, so many of my opportunities had to hit me head-on for me to take advantage of them. My older sister Becky had a guitar and I plucked around on that from about age eight and took some lessons at about age 12. But, I really wanted to play drums. My dad told me that if I took some lessons on the drum, he'd buy me one. (One drum?! To get started, I guess.) So, I got up enough nerve to approach the music director at Woodward Elementary and I asked him, "I'd like to play the drums. Can I play the drums?" He just looked at me. "I already know how to read music," I continued. Finally, he spoke, "I don't need a drummer. How about the trumpet?" I answered immediately, "OK!" So, I took my coronet home that day at lunchtime and learned to play my C scale. Played my little coronet through seventh and eighth grade and then headed for high-school. And, though I was the first chair at Woodward grade school, I just didn't see myself enrolling in the Concert Band in high school. I signed up for the Junior Band. It turned out to be a wise decision. By being in this junior band I was able to spend time with the music director at Cleveland High School in 1973. His name was Ed Levinski. He had played trumpet for Lawrence Welk. He was impressed both with my decision to join the Junior Band instead of the Concert Band and the sight of me taking my instrument home every night to practice. He spent many an hour in Junior Band teaching me music. I developed a somewhat close relationship with him. I remember him telling us the story of how he'd survived a tornado that hit his home and shot a wooden banister right into his belly! That was pretty cool when your fourteen years old. Anyway, one day he was sitting in the chair next to me with his hand on his chin, just staring at me. He kind of started, then stopped, then finally said to me, "Rich, would you like to try playing the French Horn?" "The what?" I asked. "You know, the Horn? We really need a horn player in the concert band and I think you could do it." Well, I didn't care what a "horn" was, the director just invited me to join the Concert Band! "Well, sure!," I said. He went over to pick out a horn, gave me a book and told me to practice with it for a few days. And, just like switching from drums to trumpet, I never gave it a second thought. I was now a Horn player. I joined the concert band and I was on top of the world. Except for one thing: this "horn" was a monster! Turns out there are different horns. There's a B-flat horn, an F-horn, an E-flat horn. He didn't mention all of this. Which one did I have? Now that I was in Concert Band, he didn't have time to spend with me like he used to. I didn't want to ask him or tell him I was having trouble figuring it all out. Then one evening while home, the phone rang. My dad took the call. He hung up and came to talk to me. I still remember his exact words, "Are you ready for some bad news?" "No," I replied. "Mr. Levinski had a heart attack and died this evening." I said nothing. I ran upstairs to my room so he wouldn't see me cry. I remember my friend Chris Stift calling on the phone just then, I told my sister that I couldn't talk. My dad had to go to a meeting that night, I know he wanted to stay. My mom talked to me for a few minutes, then left me alone. I cried some more. Later, after I'd turned the lights out to go to sleep, my dad came in my room. He offered a few words of solace, but we didn't really talk. Looking back on it, I know what an effort it was for him just to come in the room. Mr. Levinski was dead. Every time I see Lawrence Welk on TV (it still runs on Sat night on PBS) I think I seem him in the back row playing his trumpet. I don't know if it's him or not. It might be.