Comments on: I’m not kidding, guys. Where did I put it!? http://curlykew.com/nablopomo/im-not-kidding-guys-where-did-i-put-it A twisted tale of a rural suburban mother of almost-growns Thu, 11 Aug 2011 12:37:12 -0400 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.1.2 By: curlykew » Out Like a Lamb http://curlykew.com/nablopomo/im-not-kidding-guys-where-did-i-put-it/comment-page-1#comment-236 curlykew » Out Like a Lamb Tue, 01 Dec 2009 02:35:41 +0000 http://curlykew.com/?p=180#comment-236 [...] were two posts that are worth updating. The first is from November 5, where I talked about my bizarre trumpet dreams. If you click that link, take a moment and read the [...] [...] were two posts that are worth updating. The first is from November 5, where I talked about my bizarre trumpet dreams. If you click that link, take a moment and read the [...]

]]> By: curlykew http://curlykew.com/nablopomo/im-not-kidding-guys-where-did-i-put-it/comment-page-1#comment-158 curlykew Tue, 10 Nov 2009 05:02:53 +0000 http://curlykew.com/?p=180#comment-158 Dale, I think you just found my trumpet... Dale, I think you just found my trumpet…

]]> By: Dale http://curlykew.com/nablopomo/im-not-kidding-guys-where-did-i-put-it/comment-page-1#comment-150 Dale Fri, 06 Nov 2009 00:56:06 +0000 http://curlykew.com/?p=180#comment-150 Your trumpet is your youth. A long-lost time when you hadn't had yet to deal with crises of faith, when money issues weren't quite so bad because you weren't the one in charge so it wasn't your problem to deal with, when you didn't have kids to worry about and your fears were usually of the more concrete kind, not the amorphous worries and menaces adults are more cognizant of than kids are. That's why you're back in the high school; you were probably at your happiest there, so that's the most logical place for you to search for the ignorant innocent bliss you left behind. The kids admire you, of course, because you're a lot like them, only with more experience and wisdom, but when it comes to actually BEING like them, you're always going to be a little lacking, a little "behind the times", so to speak. Sometimes you are given a shot at recapturing that lost youth; when you get to live vicariously through your kids or watch them following in your band-geek footsteps, but in the end, it's not truly YOUR youth, and so it can be hollow, and not quite as satisfying as the real thing. I bet if you ever did find the trumpet in your dream, your adult eyes would probably notice those little imperfections that you'd forgotten about: a little bit of tarnish here, a slight dent or ding there, maybe the mouthpiece is a little out of whack. Then again, maybe a trumpet is just a trumpet. Your trumpet is your youth. A long-lost time when you hadn’t had yet to deal with crises of faith, when money issues weren’t quite so bad because you weren’t the one in charge so it wasn’t your problem to deal with, when you didn’t have kids to worry about and your fears were usually of the more concrete kind, not the amorphous worries and menaces adults are more cognizant of than kids are.

That’s why you’re back in the high school; you were probably at your happiest there, so that’s the most logical place for you to search for the ignorant innocent bliss you left behind. The kids admire you, of course, because you’re a lot like them, only with more experience and wisdom, but when it comes to actually BEING like them, you’re always going to be a little lacking, a little “behind the times”, so to speak.

Sometimes you are given a shot at recapturing that lost youth; when you get to live vicariously through your kids or watch them following in your band-geek footsteps, but in the end, it’s not truly YOUR youth, and so it can be hollow, and not quite as satisfying as the real thing.

I bet if you ever did find the trumpet in your dream, your adult eyes would probably notice those little imperfections that you’d forgotten about: a little bit of tarnish here, a slight dent or ding there, maybe the mouthpiece is a little out of whack.

Then again, maybe a trumpet is just a trumpet.

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