Bassoning for Life

October 6, 2019

It’s just a wooden tube with holes drilled into it and bent back on itself, one of the most diabolical instruments ever invented. As if the fingering itself weren’t hard enough, that wicked double reed’s only purpose is to thwart every effort made to produce sonorous sounds. Most of the time when I play the bassoon, I am relieved that I haven’t attracted a lovesick moose or goose. The sounds that emanate from my instrument are more at home in the wilds of Alaska than in the refined settings of a concert hall.

So today when listening to the Buffalo Philharmonic I heard just a few solo bassoon lines, I was again in awe of the beauty that can be coaxed out of such an instrument. The difference of course, can be credited to the better instrument the professional bassoonist plays. We all know that’s a lie. He may have a more expensive instrument, but the real difference lies in the hours he has devoted to his craft, compared to the haphazard and halfhearted attention I give the instrument. There is no substitute for practice. One cannot play with skill and ease in public if one has not put in the daily grind of hard work behind the scenes where no one sees. 

That’s the way life works. I’ve had people tell me how lucky we are to have the children we have. My response never varies: “It’s not luck. It’s a lot of hard work and a lot of grace.” The problem with most of us is that we see the performance that looks so effortless and imagine we could do the same. We might be able to if we put in the same amount of time and work the professional has invested. Instead, we imagine we can perform with aplomb apart from the unseen blood, sweat, and tears of practice. 

Someday, we each will be called upon for the performance of a lifetime before the Lord of Life. If we want to offer a life of melodious harmonies, soaring melodies, and intricate rhythms, we must put in the practice that no one will ever see, but which will result in a standing ovation from the saints and angels who are even now straining to hear notes which may be faltering in the practice room of this life, but which will echo with resounding beauty when performed before the Lord, the Maestro of the music of our lives. I am thankful to have heard today music which encourages me to be a better musician myself, but even more, to be a better man. Maybe someday, with practice, that diabolical instrument will sound just a bit more divine.