Seasons

 May 16, 2023

Life has its seasons, and for me, one of them has been drawing to a close for some time now. It’s springtime dates way back to my high school years when I played tenor sax in the band. I practiced every day, but no matter how hard I worked, I was never able to wiggle my fingers the way others could. Though I owned a 1965 Selmer Mark VI, which was and still is, top of the line, the Rolls Royce of saxophones, I couldn’t do it justice, and got bumped and ended up playing baritone sax in the jazz band.

It was even worse in the concert band. I was in danger of losing my seat entirely until it was suggested to me that I play the bassoon. There’s not much high school competition for bassoonists. I enjoyed the instrument’s unusual sound, and played it until graduation, at which time, my formal musical training came to summer’s end and a long autumn began.

Then a few years ago, I was introduced to the New Horizons band, mostly senior citizens who rehearse two days a week at our local college, putting on a concert in the fall and spring. I bought an old very outdated bassoon and was off to the races again. It was as thoroughly enjoyable as is possible when playing a finicky double-reed instrument. In addition to the band was the woodwind ensemble that to me was even more enjoyable. The bassoon shines in such intimate settings.

Then came jazz band, and the opportunity to play the bass. Starting out on electric bass which I had been playing in our worship team for years, I had the opportunity to try out the string, or upright bass, and was fully hooked. 

Then came the pandemic, and it all shut down. Last fall, the band started up again, but I feel the cold winds of winter setting in on my bassooning. I still take great pleasure in the string bass, but with the aging process comes an increased realization that less time lies ahead of me than is behind me, and that there are other projects and interests demanding my attention at a time when it takes longer to accomplish things than it once did.

Solomon said it better than anyone:

“To everything there is a season, 

A time for every purpose under heaven…

—Ecclesiastes 3:1

He adds, [there is] a time to keep, And a time to throw away.” My bassoon season has come to an end; it’s time to let it go. But for everything we release, we open our hands and hearts to something new to be received. As this old season dies, a new season dawns, and I am eager to see what it brings.