Klarinet Archive - Posting 000313.txt from 2002/06

From: "Lacy Schroeder" <LacyS@-----.org>
Subj: RE: [kl] A (musical?) game
Date: Mon, 10 Jun 2002 11:22:49 -0400

Leila, you are so creative! Have you ever written a book? I think it
would be interesting to read.

Lacy

> -----Original Message-----
> From: LeliaLoban@-----.com]
>=20
> Once in a while, the two clarinet players still visited each=20
> other in person,=20
> though not so often any more, because they lived in different=20
> countries now,=20
> and had begun to find that the bother and exhaustion of=20
> travel outweighed the=20
> fascination. When they did meet, they felt almost obligated=20
> to reminisce=20
> about their years as well-known clarinetists--"our glory=20
> years," as Hobb=20
> referred to them in a sarcastic tone of voice that sounded forced.=20
>=20
> They had such a conversation while sitting in the deep wicker=20
> arm chairs on=20
> Hobb's front porch, late in the evening one April 29 a few=20
> years ago. They'd=20
> spent most of the afternoon walking and puttering around in=20
> Hobb's enormous=20
> herb garden, but after they'd run out of things to say about=20
> sage and rue and=20
> which variety of rosemary survived the winter, the talk=20
> circled back, as it=20
> always did, to clarinets. And, as always, that conversation=20
> soon grew=20
> awkward enough to trail off into an uncomfortable silence. =20
> Freisberg's=20
> eyelids started to droop. He did most of his gardening in a=20
> greenhouse these=20
> days. Hobb tended his plants outdoors. He'd cleared almost=20
> enough land to=20
> qualify as a farm, and on top of taking care of it, Hobb ran=20
> every morning. =20
> He'd kept himself in much better shape than Freisberg, who=20
> felt . . . .=20
>=20
> A flicker of a dream crossed his mind: stage, audience,=20
> conductor, hot bright=20
> light, Weber, a tornado of sound, the taste of the reed.... =20
> He blinked and=20
> sat up. Suddenly, impulsively, he said to Hobb, "Are you=20
> ever tempted to=20
> just pick up the clarinet and get your chops back? Phone our=20
> old agent?"
>=20
> "Sometimes." Then the wicker crackled as Hobb shifted=20
> suddenly in his seat=20
> and said firmly, "No."
>=20
> Freisberg said (it was easier to say it in the dark), "I'm=20
> changing inside. =20
> Something's different. I think I do want it all back. When=20
> I was packing to=20
> come out here, I picked up the clarinet case along with my suitcase. =20
> Automatically. I opened the case. Then I closed it again. =20
> Then I opened it=20
> again. I sat down on the edge of my bed and sucked on a reed=20
> for about ten=20
> minutes with this lump in my throat like--well, I played and=20
> played until I=20
> nearly missed the plane. My lip was chapped for three days. =20
> Oh, I left the=20
> clarinet behind in the closet, of course, but . . . ." After=20
> another long=20
> silence, Freisberg blurted out, "Didn't you always think=20
> there was something=20
> strange about all that? I mean, success didn't come to us=20
> overnight. We=20
> worked hard for what we accomplished. We played our scales=20
> and our long=20
> tones. But . . . . Do you know what I mean?"
>=20
> "What *do* you mean, exactly . . . ?" said Hobb softly.
>=20
> The hair on the back of Freisberg's neck began to prickle at=20
> the sound of his=20
> old friend's voice, or maybe it was only the cool breeze of=20
> an early spring=20
> night blowing through the weathered latticework, where the=20
> morning glory=20
> seeds he'd helped Hobb plant that day would soon climb almost=20
> overnight to=20
> drape the porch in pale blue flowers and block the hotter=20
> wind of summer. =20
> Old friend . . . . What did he know about Hobb, really? The=20
> man had never=20
> married; never had a girlfriend or a boyfriend that Freisberg=20
> ever met; lived=20
> alone in this cavernous old house; seemed to have no family=20
> at all--when had=20
> any Hobb or even friend of a Hobb ever come to any of their concerts?=20
>=20
> Freisberg said, "I could swear I lived for--oh, I don't know.=20
> Years. As an=20
> adult. *Before* all that happened to us as teenaged boys. =20
> Before we met=20
> that scientist--what was his name? And our teacher. What=20
> was his--? My=20
> God, I can't remember our clarinet teacher's name!"
>=20
> "Senior moment," said Hobb with a soft chuckle. Freisberg=20
> didn't quite like=20
> the sound of that. In fact, all of a sudden, he didn't quite=20
> like Hobb. He=20
> had never liked Hobb. Something . . . some *thing* had=20
> thrown him together=20
> with Hobb, all those years ago. But no, that was silly, and=20
> his old friend=20
> Hobb was standing up and stretching and saying, "Look at the=20
> time! It's=20
> eleven o'clock, on Walpurgisnacht, no less--off we go to=20
> beddy-bye before=20
> it's midnight and the witches start flying round Woodbine=20
> Hill. It used to=20
> be Hangman's Hill, you know, before my ancestors bought the=20
> land and tore=20
> down the souvenir stand and the gallows. Boogety-boogety." =20
> He cackled=20
> theatrically and made passes in the air with his fingers,=20
> like some cartoon=20
> wizard.
>=20
> "Gallows? You're not serious."
>=20
> Hobb yawned, reached down and touched his toes without=20
> bending his knees,=20
> bobbed back up, looked at Freisberg still sitting there=20
> silently (looking=20
> back at him and waiting for an answer), and said, "It wasn't=20
> the original=20
> gallows. It was a ticky-tacky replica for the tourists who=20
> came out here for=20
> the fall foliage and pick-your-own pumpkins and hayrides at=20
> Hallowe'en,=20
> before the mill shut down and the town dried up and blew=20
> away. Seriously,=20
> stay up as late as you like and enjoy the night air, but I'm=20
> going to bed. =20
> Let me know tomorrow morning if any flying saucers land on the hill."
>=20
> Freisberg lay awake in the guest bedroom. He lived in the=20
> city and found it=20
> hard to get used to a house so nearly silent that from this=20
> upstairs bedroom,=20
> he could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock way=20
> downstairs in what=20
> Hobb rather grandly called the front parlor. Well, it=20
> probably was a front=20
> parlor, Freisberg realized. That part of the house must be=20
> two hundred years=20
> old, at least. Then he heard another sound: a quiet creak. =20
> Then another=20
> creak. Then creak creak creak, the last three old wooden=20
> steps down to the=20
> first floor landing. He didn't hear the front door open, but=20
> he thought he=20
> heard it shut.
>=20
> Freisberg got out of bed and looked out the window. Then he=20
> put on his=20
> clothes. Under a full moon so bright he didn't need a=20
> flashlight to find the=20
> pale streak of the path cutting through the darker=20
> vegetation, Freisberg=20
> stealthily followed Hobb up the hill.
>=20
> ***
>=20
> Hobb had heard Freisberg snoring, and figured his old friend was so=20
> jet-lagged by now, after flying halfway round the world and=20
> back to visit all=20
> his sisters and his cousins and his aunts in one swell foop,=20
> that he'd sleep=20
> like the dead, if indeed the dead could bear to sleep on this=20
> fine May Eve=20
> with the full moon sailing through the cloudless black sky. =20
> Nature had taken=20
> back the top of Hangman's Hill where the clearing used to be,=20
> but Hobb had=20
> already reconnoitered up there by daylight and knew where to=20
> find the right=20
> spot. A few passes with his pen-light showed him the plants,=20
> less than a=20
> foot tall this early in the year, with their drooping umbrellas of=20
> newly-unfurled leaves covering the buds that would open later=20
> into single=20
> white flowers with six petals each. =20
>=20
> Hobb set his clarinet case down. It was a long case, custom=20
> made to his=20
> specifications for his best pair of clarinets. Both of them=20
> could rest fully=20
> assembled in there. Hobb took the trowel out of the cargo=20
> pocket of his=20
> khakis, knelt down on the damp ground and began to dig. He=20
> loosened the soil=20
> all around the root and uncovered its top enough to get a=20
> good grip on it. =20
> He looked at the luminous dial of the wristwatch that he set=20
> by the atomic=20
> clock in his kitchen, and waited. Midnight. With one sharp=20
> tug, out of the=20
> ground came the thick root, shrieking. Hobb brushed most of=20
> the dirt away. =20
> Oh, yes, he'd pulled himself a good one, bumpy, fat and=20
> forked, with its chub
> by legs dangling a few long thready root-toes. He rubbed the=20
> top of the root=20
> against his slacks to clean it off better. Yes, it had two=20
> little bumps up=20
> there, like potato eyes. He shone his bright pen light on them.
>=20
> One of them opened. The tiny eye was blue, with a vertical=20
> slit of a pupil,=20
> like the pupil of a cat's eye, but a fraction of the size. =20
> The eye blinked. =20
> Then the other one opened. This one was greeny-gold, with a=20
> horizontal,=20
> rectangular pupil, like the pupil of a goat's eye. It=20
> blinked, too, but not=20
> at the same time as the blue eye. Hobb noticed that when the=20
> pupil of one=20
> eye widened, the pupil of the other eye contracted. Below=20
> the eyes, a crack=20
> appeared, lined with tiny white teeth. The root said, "What=20
> the hell do you=20
> think you're looking at? Get that damned light out of my face!"
>=20
> "I think I'm looking at a May Apple," said Hobb with a grin. =20
> He didn't turn=20
> out the light. "Or do you prefer Mad Apple?"
>=20
> A bump between the eyes and the mouth went sniff sniff sniff.=20
> "You're a=20
> Hobb, ain't you?" said the root. "You smell just like the=20
> Hobb what was=20
> hanged here. And it's Mr. Mandrake to you, pal. I don't=20
> like them stupid=20
> nicknames. And put me back in the ground and cover me up, or=20
> I'll make you=20
> sorry."
>=20
> "Oh, come off it," said Hobb. "Do as you're told or I'll=20
> make *you* sorry." =20
> He opened up his clarinet case and stuffed the mandrake root=20
> deep inside the=20
> bell of his clarinet in A. . . . .
>=20
> ---------------------------------------------------------------------