Dirty White Boy

I just can't get that old Foreigner song out of my head. "I'm just a dirty white boy --dirty white boy..."

That's always been true of me, I've always suffered from a condition that had no namw until recently --earworm! I love it! Earworm is, of course, when a song gets into your head and you can't get it out.

I still hear, at times, songs I played with the East Broadway Elementary School Band and Orchestra. There's a lot of John Phillip Sousa, and Aaron Copland...

One of my few regrets in life is that I didn't keep up seriously with music. I used to be the best (and only male) flute player in my grade school, and even took private lessons through junior high. I quit when my teacher, a Mrs. Kottler (with a strong European accent) demanded I quit baseball, as I might get hit in the mouth and lose my embochure (might bust up my mouth). When I was 13, baseball was far more important to me than playing music was...

When I got to college, I realized I had forgotton how to read music. I still picked up the flute once in awhile, usually to annoy my roommates or to try and romance coeds, but that was it.

It's funny, though, I've always kept a flute in my possession. When Hurricane Andrew flooded my old Selmer, and it rusted, I ran out to a music store on Bird Road with some insurance money and bought a new one. I still keep it, though I haven't played in over 10 years.

I insisted the Ds take an instrument. They both chose piano, and had above average talent, as well. D1 especially soared to the top of her grade school competitions, and probably had the talent to become a serviceable pianist. D2 was also pretty good.

Alas --like father, like daughters. Neither of them ever play, and our baby grand has sat silent, and out of tune, since a party we had here for UM Pediatrics over 7 years ago...

I've asked Wifey to at least call a tuner, so we could use the player/piano part of it, but that chore has been too far down on her list to get accomplished...

So, my music is confined to what plays in my head. Also, the sing alongs we sometimes have in our car and house. My family is no collection of Von Trapps...

After the Ds move out this month, and Wifey is away, I think I'll fish my flute out of my nightstand drawer, and see if I can't get my aging Labrador to howl in misery...

I'll play Foreigner -- I'm just a dirty white boy...