Actually that's a little harsh - let's call it the changes that time makes.
In a couple of weeks I will be contacting a friend of mine who operates a music store in Takoma Park. The reason for this is to enlist his help in donating my percussion stuff: the mallets, the sticks, the auxillary equipment. I have 2 large bags of different chime mallets and orchestral bell mallets, drum sticks and timpani mallets, jingle bells, woodblocks, a kabassa, latin shakers, triangles and so much more.
These are things I accumulated over the many many years of playing with the local symphony, community band, community jazz band, and college bands.
I will never come to the emotional realization that that part of my life is over while I still have these. I've known for quite some time that my hearing isn't good enough to play anymore. It was going south over 5 years ago. I've been deluding myself that I prefer to watch television upstairs when in reality that's where it is set on closed caption. I don't go to movies because in crowded noisy areas I can't hear specific sounds -- it's all a roar.
I will never play again. Not percussion. Not with a group. Not in front of people.
Wow that was hard to write.
I *do* have a lovely digital piano that has earphones. It's not the same rush as the 32 measure roll from Russian Christmas or the gong crash in Fanfare for the Common Man -- it's definitely not timpani nor crash cymbals but it *is* music.
Maybe I can conquer my love/hate relationship with it? Only time will tell I guess.
The picture is a sculpture by Alexander Calder that is in the National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden in Washington DC. I noticed as I moved here and didn't play, my muse was drawn towards art and photography. I'm just hoping that Harold likes the piano as well. I know he'll miss the cymbals.
