Klarinet Archive - Posting 000123.txt from 1996/11

From: Oliver Seely <oliver@-----.EDU>
Subj: Re: swab survey
Date: Tue, 5 Nov 1996 20:27:16 -0500

I go to Pep Boys and get chamois used for polishing cars then
cut it into little sections, poke a nail through two opposite corners, tie
a shoe string through one hole and a couple of 10-32 nuts through the
other one. My teacher used to say that I ought not to
use the chamois straight because it will cause the inside of my
clarinet to turn yellow. Alas, I never followed his advice, so today
I have this otherwise beautiful mpingo wood clarinet with a yellow inside.
It's quite embarrassing because from time to time I get the unmistakable
impression that the people around me in band are trying to sneak a peek
up my barrel so I've developed various evasive actions. For one thing, if
anyone on either side of me bends down, ostensibly to pick up a case
(I mean, I REALLY know what they're planning to do), I immediately cap my
hand over the bottom. The people with whom I have the most trouble
are the flutists who sit just in front and down one tier. One flutist in
front of me turned around last week and gave me a funny look one too many times
so I tied a red silk scarf to the bottom of the bell. I thought that it looked
quite nice, but the conductor didn't go for it. "What's that tied to your
clarinet," he said with irritation. "Just a scarf to improve my tone, sir."
"Take it off," was all he said, to a good deal of tittering from the flute
section. So I gently pulled off a little of the scarf at the rear. "Take it
off, take it all off!," to general laughter all around. That kind of
harrassment goes on all the time. Now understand, I've never ACTUALLY
seen the yellow inside, but my teacher said that that's what would happen
so I guess that it's true. I've even oiled the inside and let the excess
oil drip out just to see if some of the yellow will be carried with it, but
the oil
always comes out clear. I don't know where the yellow went, into the mpingo
I guess. But I used the excess oil to shine up the outside between
the keys. It looked really spiffy, but that darn flutist, you know what
she has on her mind! "Oooh!," she squealed, "I've never seen a freshly
oiled clarinet. May I touch it?" "O.K.," I said guardedly, "but be gentle and
just touch it. Don't put your hand around it." You know very well that
once she
had her hand around my shiny mpingo clarinet, up it would go and she'd
be looking right up my barrel. And I'd simply die of embarrassment.
So I held it tightly and made sure that she touched it with just her little
finger.
One can't be too careful in these matters.

Oliver