Klarinet Archive - Posting 000083.txt from 1996/03

From: "Dan Leeson: LEESON@-----.EDU>
Subj: A morality play: my good side -- my evil side
Date: Mon, 4 Mar 1996 12:28:35 -0500

I have just had the most terrible battle of my good side fighting
with my evil side. It was awful. I woke up and found furniture
smashed, so violent was the confrontation. Let me explain.

This morning a nice young man - a senior in high school, by
the way - posted to this list on several things. But one of them
was the fact that he had just heard (from whom it was not
stated) about rosewood as another wood type for clarinet
manufacture. And he offered the opinion that rosewood (about
which he had just learned, I remind you) could not sound as
good as grenadilla.

I held my tongue. You would all have been proud of me. I
seethed, but that's OK. It is legal to seeth in silence. In fact,
it is meritorious.

"Let someone else put a thumb in his eye," I said to myself.
The fact that he was forming opinions about something of
which he knew nothing is no different than what I did at his
age, and probably you too. Being that age gives one a right (in
fact a duty) to form and offer opinions on subjects about which
one knows nothing. "Let it lie. Go away. Shut up. You have
offered your opinion about the material of the clarinet having
only modest inflence on the sound character so many times,
that you are losing credibility on the subject. Shut up. Shut
up! Go to sleep!! Go to work!!! Study how to teach the
Calculus' chain-rule better than you have been doing recently."

I took my own advice and puttered around the house trying to
put the thing out of my mind. I made bread (which I am very
good at), set up some beans for chili for tomorrow night's
dinner and tried to get engrossed in things unclarinetlike.

But my evil inclination took over: "What do you mean 'let it
alone'? How old does one have to be before starting to think
about issues such as these? If this nice young man continues
to think that the sound of a clarinet comes from the material
of which it is made, who is to know what troubles he might get
into? He could become a bank robber, a sex-maniac and child-
molester, even, heaven forfend, a flutist or even sink to the
depravity of an accordionist. Tell him off. Make him feel
guilty. Insult his manhood. Say that his mother wears army
boots."

And my good side began to argue the other position: "Be kind.
Don't hit him. Think of the many times you have been wrong.
Actually, now that I think about it, think about the very few
times you have been wrong. Did you like it when someone
stuck a thumb in your eye? Ignore it. He'll learn. Instead,
make him a gift of a rosewood clarinet and he'll see that it, too,
is a beautiful instrument. Wait! Let's not go that far. That's
overkill, just speak gently."

And before I knew it, my good side and my evil side were
having a hot discussion. I got sleepy and that's when I hit the
sack for a little nap. It was when I woke up that I saw the
condition of the house and became concerned. Strewn
furniture here. Broken reeds there. Perhaps I had abandoned
my responsibilities in this matter and this was the result of it.

What to do? What do to? In the words of our beloved
opposite sex, "What's a mother to do???"

Rather than pick on the poor guy, but not willing to drop the
matter completely, I thought that I would post this story of my
good side fighting with my bad side. Think of it this way, I
could have posted something much more boring - like about
reeds and/or mouthpieces - and then we would all be asleep.

Have a good day. Buy bonds. A loose lip sinks ships. 23-
skidoo. A bird in the hand is worth something.
====================================
Dan Leeson, Los Altos, California
(leeson@-----.edu)
====================================

   
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