You Never Know When You Might Need It

Over the weekend I began sorting out my various band bits. "Cleanliness is next to Godliness", the Reverend John Wesley said in 1778, a proverb which had absolutely nothing to do with my decision. The slightly disorganised music cupboard was, to my mind, absolutely fine. My other half, however, decided that it was time to let our youngest have full use of their bedroom. I have, for nearly two years, been subletting a small portion of it for the storage of instruments, mutes and music since it was turned from office/practice room into a nursery. Recognising, but not admitting, her well reasoned and put forward case, I duly obliged and began to move and rearrange things. The edict had a part two however, and was accompanied by a 'suggestion' that perhaps a thinning out of items might not be a terrible idea. "You have things here I've never seen you use and I’ve known you for ten years”. "Quite true", I responded, "but you never know when you might need it". 

In the case of BBH vs Mrs BBH, the prosecution's case was based on one, key piece of evidence: an almost pristine harmon mute. I bought this harmon mute 14 years ago for a youth band residential course and concert. I was instructed that, for such an important concert, I couldn't make do with my trusty straight mute and  was to borrow one, or buy one. None of the bands I was involved in at the time had a harmon mute for my instrument though and so I bought my own. It was expensive, and the financial outlay (which felt significant at the time) stung all the more by the fact that the mute was for four bars of one piece of music and that I never used it in rehearsals during the week-long residential, only using it in the concert performance. To rub even more salt into the wound, here it picked up a dent on its top edge courtesy of a young, enthusiastic, but extremely clumsy member of my section. After that night in April 2012, I never used it again. Never. But I've not parted with it because I might need it. 

I often chuckle at my Father-in-law who has a garage full of things he might need one day. He recently posted something to us in a padded envelope he’d been saving since 1991 (I promise that is absolutely true) and had waited three decades for the opportunity to use it. Am I just as bad as him? I don’t think so - I don’t have pots of washers, screws and random pieces of wood I hang on to - but there is doubtless a parallel to be drawn. It's possibly a financial reason, possibly because my family are from Yorkshire and probably because, in my mind, if I sell the mute I'll definitely need it days later. Is it a sentimental thing? A reminiscence of a time when I was young, idealistic and rather thinner than I am now? A time when I had grand plans to play for all the top bands and travel the world as a musician. In my 9-5, family man existence perhaps this, and the other items, represent what could have been. Or perhaps it's just sensibility. It makes sense to have the mute, because as a brass player there is a reasonable chance I'll need the mute. I am also, regularly, accused of overthinking things and perhaps writing a blog post about a harmon mute is strong evidence that those who say this are correct. 

Whatever the reason for it, putting these thoughts on paper has allowed me the opportunity to reflect on what I had, and more importantly what I currently have. The things in my life that are dear to me and that I wouldn't change for anything. 

Oh, also, I'm not getting rid of the mute.