Cleaning out my life means coming across some strange and funny items. Recently I stumble across a box of musical novelties: recorders, metal spoons, wooden castanets... My daughter is visiting for the morning, and she discovers the box of treasures.She has not played the recorder in decades, yet she picks up her old recorders (a standard one and an alto one) and plays each (one at a time, of course) perfectly. I, on the other hand, have never been able to play the damn recorder. Every time I try, the instrument makes a high-pitched squeak.
She laughs at me, attempts to teach me how to play, videos me massacring a melody, and giggles so hard that she gets me laughing. She continues to play perfectly and from memory. I, on the other hand, turn to the keyboard, an instrument that I can at least partially play, and start accompanying her with such easy tunes as "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" and "Happy Birthday."
We get bolder and activate the pre-set songs already loaded on the keyboard. Yes, this is muuuuuuuch better. I pretend to play along, and sometimes I even really do play along ... a little bit. I'm not squeaking any longer, and I wouldn't even be embarrassed if she videotaped me.We jam together for about twenty minutes or so, stopping to laugh our butts off at how silly this all is. Honestly, who'd have thought some plastic recorders and an old electric keyboard could bring back so many memories and cause us to nearly pee our pants.
Funny how cleaning out my life isn't stripping it down at all; it's enriching it. I almost don't want to part with the recorders now that they have new-found significance and humor, which makes these old-time treasures new-time solid gold.
