***
Speaking of a husband's love, yesterday my husband met up with Kyoko to buy me my very own oboe for Christmas! They went to the workshop of a clarinet and oboe repair master and picked out a Buffet Crampon Green Line oboe for me. He told me later they were both looking forward to how excited I would be. I could barely "keep it together" while I opened the box under (or I guess I should say beside) our little tree. Here it is (soprano angel choir and celestial ray of light, please):
As we turned out the light to go to sleep last night I asked, "Do you think it's a boy or a girl?"
"What?" murmured my husband.
"My new oboe. Boy or girl? I have to pick a name."
"You're gonna name your oboe?"
"Um, ya-ah. Abby and Adam named their violins. Lots of people name their instruments." Of course, lots of people don't, either, and I suppose it takes a certain childlike spirit and freedom of disdain to be this corny, but I plead guilty.
"I think she's a girl," I continued. "My rental's a boy, though."
"How do you know?"
"I just know." He felt like a buddy, comfortable to be with in pajamas and slippers, but the new one like a galpal who would let me know if something I was wearing was crooked, unflattering, or just plain wrong. An honest companion, much less the let-little-flaws-slide-by type, like my trusty rental.
"Did you name your rental?"
"No," I answered guiltily.
"Why not?!" asked my husband, momentarily animated.
"Well, it's a rental, and..."
"You didn't give it a name because it's a rental?! Isn't that discrimination?" The civil rights advocate in him was enjoying this, I could tell.
"Well, naming means attachment, and relationship, and rentals get given back..."
"I see. Poor little oboe."
I muttered something decidedly unimaginative in reply, then thanked my husband for going to the instrument dealer's place with Kyoko, and for helping make my little dreams happen.
"It's really all your hard work," he said. "I get the fun part - being along for the ride."
"What?" murmured my husband.
"My new oboe. Boy or girl? I have to pick a name."
"You're gonna name your oboe?"
"Um, ya-ah. Abby and Adam named their violins. Lots of people name their instruments." Of course, lots of people don't, either, and I suppose it takes a certain childlike spirit and freedom of disdain to be this corny, but I plead guilty.
"I think she's a girl," I continued. "My rental's a boy, though."
"How do you know?"
"I just know." He felt like a buddy, comfortable to be with in pajamas and slippers, but the new one like a galpal who would let me know if something I was wearing was crooked, unflattering, or just plain wrong. An honest companion, much less the let-little-flaws-slide-by type, like my trusty rental.
"Did you name your rental?"
"No," I answered guiltily.
"Why not?!" asked my husband, momentarily animated.
"Well, it's a rental, and..."
"You didn't give it a name because it's a rental?! Isn't that discrimination?" The civil rights advocate in him was enjoying this, I could tell.
"Well, naming means attachment, and relationship, and rentals get given back..."
"I see. Poor little oboe."
I muttered something decidedly unimaginative in reply, then thanked my husband for going to the instrument dealer's place with Kyoko, and for helping make my little dreams happen.
"It's really all your hard work," he said. "I get the fun part - being along for the ride."
***
Tonight I practiced with the new arrival for the first time. She's gonna be a tough taskmaster! I felt like I was starting all over again. All my stumbling blocks from my earliest days - squeaking into certain keys, squawking when descending to lower registers, grace notes a-plenty - came back to haunt me. No hiding or glossing-over with her! She's got a nice tone up high, though, I have to say. I like her sound.
We'll see about this naming thing...
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Paul Levy's wife, who sings with the Tanglewood Festival Chorus, has written a captivating post on his blog describing how the Boston Pops Christmas concert went on anyway despite the big snow storm. Click here for a little holiday warmth.
10 comments:
She's a beauty, that's for sure. May she see you through many happy Christmases!
Congrats on the oboe. That must be very exciting.
I got mine, a Fox 330 earlier this year. He's a guy. I was going to name him Frantik, which is Czech for Frenchman (being 1/4 Czech myself, I looked to this language) but since the oboe was invented in France (Okay, I know, Fox is an American brand) the other oboe player insisted he'd have a French name and set off naming him Pierre. Which ended up sticking through a matter of odd circumstances.
I ended up compromising. Jean-Pierre Frantik, but usually Pierre.
Best of luck in naming her. Who knows, she might get named in the odd way Pierre was.
-Rema
Thank you, speducator lvc! Hope you and justanotherlawyer will join us for some of those music-making moments. I just ordered a book of Taize songs...
And Rema - what a GREAT story! I love it! Have you read Hilda's blog (http://dominicanoboist.blogspot.com)? Her Loree is named Luna.
My oboe is a boy, but he doesn't have a name yet. :(
I enjoy your blog...
Ruth
Thanks Ruth! Nice to know of other fellow adult oboe students out there!
Now, if only I could sew...I don't think suturing central lines in counts...!
:)
Suturing definitely counts as sewing!
BTW, my oboe is a Buffet also. Not the Greenline Buffet, though.
Ruth
T,
I haven't read her blog. I'll have to check it out.
I enjoy your blog. I am a friend of your mother-in-law, Marie-Claude, and through my love for her, I was praying for you as well...as I drove through that horrible but Silent Night home. My heart was with each and every soul on their pilgrimage home. Thoughts were of Mary and Joseph looking for a room in an inn. I was grateful knowing I had a warm apartment awaiting me. Keep up the beautiful writing and know you are in my prayer, always. Peace, Karen
Karen, I deeply appreciate your words and your visit here.
Congratulations on your oboe! How exciting! May you have many wonderful moments with her.
My oboe, Luna, says hi!
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