The Worship Ensemble in son’s church this morning included one American, one American-born Armenian…. and the rest all Ukranian — from the church’s Russian-speaking Ukranian Growth Group. That is genuine outreach. btw…I couldn’t pick up on the Ukranian vocalist’s accent….but Joan did… Don’t say anything political, because this is not.
Cleaning some mouthpieces I used in college (@ 50 yrs ago). The Kaspar seems to be especially valuable on a selling site, but that is not my purpose in the cleanup.
Just listened to a podcast from dailywire.com, that included a segment on insurance rates.
“Avg” car INSURANCE is now $212/MONTH.
I pay $29.33.
“26% increase this year = biggest in 50 yrs”.
I have an older car, but what does a new one do that makes it worth an additional $2100+/yr to insure? Hope you’re below avg in that regard. I’ll keep driving my 10-year-old Camry with its mid-80K miles. Oh, my car payment is $0, btw.
Curious to hear what you pay.
Avg homeowners insurance is $1700, up 46% since pre-covid. That’s a lotta percentage.
I pay $1100, which was closer to avg that I expected, given home prices in places like NY, CA, etc. They told me I’m at recommended, which is double average. I feel better already. ???
Because of the sue-crazy world we live in, I carry an UMBRELLA policy that is not as expensive as you might think.
BUT….the foundation work we’re having done is NOT covered…..unless I can “prove a specific event” that caused that problem.
This time of year can be stressful for those romantically attached, hoping to become, casually dating, good plutonic friends or single not by preference. I understand widowed or divorced, too…. but this post targets mostly high schoolers. If you have it all figured out, STOP HERE!
Perfect pitch means you can hear a tone or multiple tones and identify them. There was a girl in undergrad music theory class at UK who had perfect pitch. She described it as painful if a vocal ensemble was to lose pitch, i.e. go flat/sharp.
Another person I worked with professionally was a local band director wife. We could use her as a tuner, because she not only knew the pitch, but whether you were ever so slightly off. We would bring her in periodically to critique and the students always enjoyed trying to “trip her up”. But perfect means perfect and they never could.
In one rehearsal, without a score in front of her, she made a comment like, “The Bb7 chord at letter E is both wrong and out of tune. The altos have the ‘D’ (your ‘B’) and one of you is playing a Bb and another of you is playing the right note, but quite sharply.” We checked. She was perfect.
I do not have perfect pitch, but good “relative” pitch. It serves me well in two general ways. First, as a clarinetist, I can usually “hear” the pitch before I play it and so can come in on the right note/partial and on pitch. Especially when listening to a clarinet, I can usually tell you the note, but more because I know the different timbres of notes. An open ‘G’ sounds different than a ‘Bb’, for example.
It also serves me well in rehearsals as I have keen “hearing eyes”. I can tell if what I’m hearing is what I’m looking at in the music score. I established that when I would say, “Someone is missing [specific note]. If you don’t fix it, I will find you”, they knew I could, so sometimes, when I stop the music, look down at the score (to figure out what I heard and where it might be coming from) and focus my attention toward a section of the group I might find someone with his/her hand already raised to confess, “It was me”.
During a grad class, I had to stay after class one day because I was doing something the professor said I shouldn’t have been able to do and he wanted to find out how I was “cheating”.
His researched position was that you could only retain and re-sound about 8-11 random tones. To make his point, he emphasized why phone numbers are broken down; 260-786-6554 vs 2607866554 or that credit card numbers are “batched” in 4’s because we can’t remember 16.
Then for practical proof, he started playing series of tones. We were to sing them back and drop out when we missed. Not unlike a spelling bee, by the time he got to 12-13 tones, there were only two of us left. The other person dropped out and the professor, in a frustrated tone, asked me how I was “cheating”.
Working 1-1 after class, he noticed (I didn’t even know I was doing it) I was fingering my pencil. His conclusion, and I had none better to offer, was that I was “hearing tones in clarinet” and then “playing them back”.
What I did was not unique. I know of others who have trained their ears to hear specific pitches, such as an ‘open G’ on trumpet or a vocal “do” on ‘c’.
Beginning instruments are designed for beginners. The bores on some of the brass instruments are smaller because of the lesser air capacity the 6th grader has. Keys on mass-produced woodwinds are designed to survive some falls and mistreatment.
Once a student gets to high school, they’ve been playing that beginning instrument for three or more years and, especially if they show potential, I start to encourage them to step up because at some point it will become the instrument itself holding them back.
My first two experiences involved siblings. I was out of college and teaching band when my youngest sister was in high school band. She needed a new trumpet and I was able to get one for her through the instrument dealer I worked with. My brother got to play my Selmer clarinet when I had moved to Buffet.
Not all my attempts were successful. When I approached one farmer-papa about a new clarinet, his question was,
“Isn’t that the clarinet you told us to buy?”
He had also challenged me when I said I wanted to spend 1-1 time with his daughter in individual instruction.
“Aren’t you the teacher?”, he asked. “Then why don’t you find a way to teach her without me paying extra money for you to do your job.”
He eventually became a very supportive father and band parent.
One high school clarinetist was really good. She was studying with me and was at the point where she needed better equipment. And, knowing her father’s job, I was confident finances were not a problem. I tried the “puppy dog close”.
I learned the “puppy dog close” in sales training. The idea is that you go to the pet store and the store owner offers to let you take a puppy home for the evening with the ability to bring it back the next day. The puppy never comes back.
This is before I was on staff at the high school, but I had a good relationship with the music store in Fort Wayne. I went and asked if I could borrow a Buffet R-13 (top-of-the-line) clarinet with the idea that I could bring it back in two days if I did not sell it for them. They reluctantly agreed.
The next day I was in the band room as students came in for rehearsal. I called that girl over, handed her the new clarinet and asked her to try it out during rehearsal. As expected, she was amazed at the difference. I asked her to take it home for the evening (along with the price tag) and bring it back the next day if she decided not to keep it. She walked in the next day with a check for payment in full. No commission for me.
I was with a student and her family at solo festival. She had worked hard, but struggled in the performance. The mechanics of the instrument were messing her over. Afterward, in the hallway, dad asked me how I thought she did.
“She should get a Gold (she did), but she was fighting that instrument most of the way.”
The next day she had a new clarinet at school. Turns out, papa went to the music store table and bought her a step-up instrument on the spot.
A high school student was taking private lessons and her teacher told me on multiple occasions that her instrument was “crap”. My understanding in talking with the student was that there were some family financial difficulties.
Partly because of her finances, I found a doner and worked out a deal with her instructor to give her lessons for a year. When I called her in to tell her about it, I told her I wanted her to make sure the doner got his money’s worth. There were tears and a promise.
The teacher reinforced with me how incredibly prepared she was for her lessons, but still lamented about the quality of her horn.
I asked for a parent/student/teacher conference and met with them one day after school. I told the parental,
“She is an excellent musician. For financial reasons, we set up lessons for her for a year. She is doing an incredible job with those and her teacher stresses how she is the most prepared student he has had. But [she] needs a better instrument. I don’t know the details of your finances and I can’t tell you how to make it happen, but this girl needs [this]. The music store will work with you, but this needs to happen.”
There were more tears — and a new horn.
That student is now a Band Director.
There were other situations over the years where I was able to help coordinate or provide private lessons or to help a student get better equipment to work with.
The director had been out for a few days, so I ran the rehearsals….and organized this prank. I wish I had zeroed on facial expressions. NOTE: No harm was done. Students exited one door, walked around and came back in another. We lost about 2-3 minutes of rehearsal. I wonder what it looked like on the CCTV monitors in the admin offices.
These have happened in the last few days, so it merits a post, imo.
YOU KNOW YOU’RE GETTING OLDER WHEN…..
— you realize that the clarinet you are using to demo for the student is older than the student’s mother who brought student to the lesson.
— a friend posts about being in a type of medical office of a type you’ve never heard. …. but then that friend’s friends are talking about their experiences with that type of doctor.
— you make a pot of coffee and forget to go back and get a cup.
There were few times I ever got a ride to or from school other than band practices. Charlie C lived in the trailer park behind Rosedale pool and he had a car….or was allowed to drive his parents’ car. He would sometimes drive me. Mom would on rare occasions.
For regular school days, Mom would give me bus money. There were no school buses available. The #6 Rosedale bus would stop at 45th and Glenn, just over the walking bridge next to Rosedale Baptist Church. That was about a 5-minute walk. I usually rode the bus to school in the morning, mostly because time was critical.
Because she gave me bus money whether or not I rode, I would often walk home. What I did was possibly illegal, but I never got in trouble for it.
Holmes High School is between 25th & 26th streets, just across the street from a double pair of railroad tracks. Those same tracks passed about 8 houses up the street from my home. I didn’t get on the tracks at the school because they passed through a tunnel that I was told left no room on the sides, if there were trains on both tracks.
So I would walk down to an overpass, behind a roller skating rink, and up a short, but steep dirt path to the track. There wasn’t a numbered street there, but I’m guessing I was on the tracks for about 20 city blocks. With a B&O (Baltimore and Ohio) yard just a mile or so south of my house and an L&N (Louisville and Nashville) office building and turn off just north, these were very active tracks.
I was on railroad property but no one ever asked me to get off. I would often waive at the passing train engineer. When there were two trains, then I would walk on the heavy gravel areas alongside. Otherwise, I spent most of my time ON a rail. I would challenge myself to not lose balance from one street crossing to the next. I was very good at it, even when carrying a clarinet or saxophone case and some books. Backpacks were not a thing students used at that time.
Trains didn’t use their horns in the city (like they do now), but they had a dingy bell. The engines themselves were generally loud enough so I don’t think I was ever in danger of one sneaking up on me from behind. They didn’t move very quickly during this area either. The only surprise was an occasional train coming from a different direction and merging onto these tracks. There was one place where that could happen.
I would get off the tracks at either the 42nd or 44th Street train crossings and walk the last block on sidewalks.
This was the “DeCoursey Yard”, just out of sight from my house. It is where my Grandpa McCormack worked.
Between 8th and 12th grades at Homes, I probably walked those rails hundreds of times.
Just listened to a podcast from 
There were few times I ever got a ride to or from school other than band practices. Charlie C lived in the trailer park behind Rosedale pool and he had a car….or was allowed to drive his parents’ car. He would sometimes drive me. Mom would on rare occasions. 
