Never, have I been so embarrassed as the day I took my daughter, Amber’s, flute in to be repaired!  See, at the beginning of the last school year, she declared that she wanted to play the flute.  Suspicious, I asked, “Are you sure?”  There were reasons for asking.  At home we had the tell-tale signs of other instruments Amber wanted to play.  We have a neglected piano, an untouched organ which sat along side a two-year-old guitar, which held up a discarded autoharp, xylophone, and harmonica.  Now, in Amber’s hand, was a school form waiting to be filled out for this year’s instrument selection.  I could hardly wait.

 

Amber’s interest in music is one I’d like to foster.  My mother was a gifted pianist, and I harbor deep hopes that someone else in our family may have inherited some of her musical genes.  I certainly didn’t, but perhaps Amber did!  Blaming my lack of talent on my nomadic childhood as an Army brat, Amber’s more stable lifestyle should surely lead to something promising in the area of music.

 

Last year she asked to play the flute.  “Lovely,” I thought.  Sweet music can be made with the proper investment of time and practice.  Visions of Amber’s playing delightful melodies floated in my head.  After some probing questions and reassurances from Amber that, yes, she did indeed want to play the flute, and would stick with the flute, I purchased one.  Herein was the problem.  I bought the flute from a, well, less-than-expected establishment.  The fact was, I was being cheap and I didn’t want to waste any more money on an expensive instrument that was just going to serve as a door stop not long after it was purchased.  So, I bought the flute from a neighborhood variety store.  It’s too embarrassing to actually name the store.  Believe me, however, it’s not the kind of place you’d ever shop for a flute (or any other type of instrument) although they have wonderful sales on clothing and dishes!  This fact notwithstanding, the store advertised flutes, clarinets, trumpets and saxophones for a very inexpensive price.  I should have known better than to buy her flute there, but I figured it wouldn’t matter since, after all, this was only fifth- grade band.  Surely, the instrument would be good enough to serve our purposes.   It wasn’t.

 

My vision of Amber’s future playing the flute was interrupted by a squawk.  “Just listen to this, Mom!  My flute sounds horrible and I can’t play an ‘F’ no matter how hard I try!  My band teacher has tried to fix it, and he even showed me how to play the F a different way, but this ‘piece’ keeps falling off!”  I turned and looked at her grimly, not wanting to hear anymore, but she continued, “Mom, do you know how embarrassing it is to have a piece of your flute, fall off in the middle of a song?”  Then, came even more, “Mom, my teacher asked where you bought my flute, and he said that I need a new one, but not from where you bought this one!”  Please tell me that she didn’t tell him!  She did.  You can’t tell a musician something like that!  It’s, well, sacrilegious!  Amber still had more to say, “He doesn't think this flute can be fixed and I have a concert in two weeks!”

 

I knew it!  Save now, pay later!  “Give me the flute,” I demanded.  “I’ll take it to the music shop and see if they can fix it.”  When I arrived, the store clerk looked at the flute suspiciously and referred me to the store’s repairman.  What did these people see that I couldn’t see?  Flutes look like flutes!  Handing the flute back to me, the clerk said, “He works out of his home.  Handing me a business card, he said, “You’ll have to drive to this address and see if he can help you.”  I left the store knowing that things were probably going to get worse before they got better.  In the meantime, Amber started asking me a million questions.  “Mom, do you think he can fix it?  What if he can’t?  Are you going to buy me another flute?  If you do, will you buy it from a music store this time?”  I glared into the rear view mirror and willed her to be quiet before I cracked.  “Mom,” she continued, “My friend’s mom bought her a flute and it’s prettier than mine and it sounds better too!  It has gold on it.”  “Yours won’t!” I assured her.   Suddenly, I had a flashback to the days when I was single, free, childless, and the only flutes I came in contact with were fluted skirts.  Those were the days!  A car horn snapped me back to reality and I turned onto the street leading to the repairman’s house. 

 

We got out of the car and crept towards a door located on the side of his house.  It felt creepy walking up to a stranger’s house.  Upon reflection, however, it was no stranger than purchasing a flute where I purchased Amber’s!  We knocked on the door, but no one answered.  We jumped when the repairman rounded the corner of the house mumbling about it being his day off and near the holidays, not to mention that it was getting late, etc., etc., etc. 

 

I was desperate.  I knew that I had to control my mouth and not give him the sarcastic retort I’d planned.  No, I needed to play it sweet and humble for the sake of the child.  Making a weak attempt to placate him, I thanked him for his willingness to let us bring the flute in despite it being such an inconvenient time.  We were at fault and surely deserved any rude treatment we were about to receive.  We weren’t disappointed.  “Give me that flute!” he demanded.  He yanked the mouth piece off and promptly said, “You bought this flute at ______________, didn’t you?”  My mouth fell open.  I was stunned!  How did he know that?  “Um, ah, well, yes,” I finally replied.  I focused on him a bit wondering if he had ESP or something.  I’d seen these kind of people before on TV!  Even though I knew that Amber had freely blabbed that embarrassing bit of information around the school, surely, the sad news could not have reached him!  “Let me tell you something, Ms. Sims!”  “What?” I asked almost afraid to speak.  “You should NEVER buy an instrument from anywhere other than a music store!” “Okay,” I replied sheepishly, and waited until he turned back around to roll my eyes.  What else could I do? 

 

“Come here!” he ordered Amber, who had been smirking, but now was not.  She had been enjoying my parental discomfort.  “Play something!”  Amber quickly grabbed the flute, but before she even blew a note, he corrected her posture, adjusted her fingering, and repositioned the way she held the flute.  Could we do nothing right?  “Hoot!  Hoot!,” she played, uncomfortably, “Hoot!  Hoot!”  He grabbed the flute back and showed her how to hold it correctly yet again.  He demonstrated the correct way to locate and blow over the hole in the mouth piece so that the note sounded pure and whole.  Then, he jumped up and showed her how to stand properly so that the air would flow out as it should when she began to blow.  He also showed Amber not one, not two, but three ways to play the same note.  Quickly, he applied some goopy stuff to the flute, tightened a few tiny screws, and assured us that, while it would not hold forever, it would get her through her upcoming performance.   “Thank you!” I replied gratefully.  I dabbed my brow.  Were those beads of perspiration beginning to form on my brow?  Yep!  Humiliation always makes me sweat.  I quickly said, “Thanks, again!  How much do I owe you?”  “Nothing!” he replied.  “Have a happy holiday!”  Again, I was stunned and turned my head like dogs often do, cocked, a little to one side.  He turned to Amber and said, “You keep practicing and hold that flute the way I showed you!”  “Okay!” she replied with a big smile on her face, and he smiled back.  What a break!  Repairman Hyde had vanished and Repairman Jekyll had suddenly appeared!  I guess he figured that  anyone buying a flute from where I bought Amber’s first flute, needed a break.  He was right.  His words burned in my brain though.  Amber would need a new flute and soon!

 

Amber made it through the performance without a squawk.  Winter, spring, and summer passed.  It was now fall and time to sign up for band again!  “Mom!” I heard Amber call out to me.  “Here we go again!” I thought.  “I want to play the flute again this year!”  “Remember, you promised to buy me a ‘good’ one and I need it soon!”  “Of course, you do!” I mumbled. 

 

I’m happy to report that on day two of the new school year we purchased Amber a brand new, shiny, “good” flute from a “good” music store.  Last week was her first lesson with this year’s teacher.  He’d better be “good,” too!  I can hardly wait until her upcoming performance.  Dollar for dollar, each note should sound sweeter than before.  Even though I’ll be paying for her new flute long after she’s lost the desire to play, for now we are both smiling; and we both agree that learning to play the flute has been quite a hoot!