Music, Man.

poems

As we in the Business do when we want to take something (or some things) to the "dump", we in the Big City go to a local Transfer Station.

There, they use enormous loaders to shovel gobs of the stuff we bring into tractor trailers, where it is then shipped out to holes in the ground so they can bury it for a thousand years (or more).

Everything one could imagine under the Sun gets dropped-off, even the belongings of those who bailed on their rentals/etc., such that the Property Management needs hire a company to clean the place up for the next tenant . . .

Two weeks ago in the rain--fighting to get a 400lb stump off the back of the truck--I noticed a black case partially hidden amidst the debris in the pile behind . . . I tested its weight, and light-as-a-feather, I toed it to the side with an 'oh-well.' while I did what I had to do.

Catching my breath after my seemingly-miraculous feat of physical engineering (that was one, awkward beast of a stump, let me tell you!), I waited until the attendants were not looking (they discourage scavenging, with prejudice), and opened the case.

Inside was a complete Bach trombone!

Probably the Student Edition, and with a s/n almost reaching seven figures (which makes it far from Vintage), but quite a score, nonetheless

Always wanted to play a trombone.

I'll get it cleaned up, and give it a try: for education, fun and just-because ;)

Later, I'll find a kid that doesn't have/cannot afford one, so they can let it carry them to halftime at the Cotton Bowl, or further....

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