Some Memories Linger

When Memory rings her bell, let all the thoughts run in. ~Emily Dickinson, American poet

Spring semester for symphonic band has started, and we’re practicing for two concerts, one in March and the other in April.

To say this is a busy time would be an understatement.

Typically, our director chooses several pieces, lets us sight-read them, and gives us a chance to weigh in on the merits of adding any (or all) to our program.

I might not appreciate every piece chosen at first, but by the time the concert rolls around, I’ve grown accustomed to them. And often find snatches of tunes noodling through my mind.

Recently, I had to miss one rehearsal because of icy roads, but I was pleasantly surprised the next week when I heard several members practicing snatches of a favorite of mine from way back when.

I knew I’d played it before. Probably in junior high or high school.

I suspect every band around here played it. It was that popular, particularly as a contest piece.

Back then, we were encouraged to sit quietly and listen as other bands performed their contest selections. It was fun, educational, and inspirational to pretend we were the judges. To compare how we did against how they did.

So I knew the melody of this particular piece, but not its name. Or who composed it. Or even on what occasion I’d played it.

In introducing the piece, our current director explained how concert band literature “back in the day” was heavy on clarinets and trumpets, while today’s composers tend to spread the sounds around among all the sections.

Which makes for a different listening experience.

Later, I hummed its familiar eight-bar theme to my son Domer, who said he, too, had played it in school.

Timeless, right?

You’re probably wondering what piece I’m talking about: Toccata for Band by Frank Erickson.

Maybe you played it as a former band member?

I wish I could recall the particulars of when I played it. If only I could go back to the scrapbooks I saved, the ones with the programs from such events.

But that can’t happen because the scrapbooks got trashed in the dismantling of our storage shed some seven years ago.

So I’ll have to satisfy my curiosity with memories. You know, snatches of music, whiffs of certain scents, and touches of a favorite material all have a way of carrying us back to days long ago.

And how cool that I’m getting to make new memories — and collect new programs!