The Trombonist

There’s a man named Terry who has played trombone in the LA Symphony for five decades. It’s not about lung capacity, I learned; it’s about mouth-wind efficiency. You heard it here first.

Before I discovered Terry’s tromboning history, I knew him only as “earth’s sweetest husband.” I’d seen him and his wife in the cafe for months. I could barely look at them, but I also couldn’t look away. Have you ever seen something so beautiful it makes you wince?

He moved her napkin one inch closer so she didn’t have to reach. He took the lid off her coffee so it could cool. He looked at her and smiled like he was lost in a piece of art. She tapped the face of his watch. He helped her off her stool. He threw away her trash. She waited for him.

He held her hand as they walked slowly to the car. And she let him.

She let him carry her hand.

I haven’t been in a serious relationship for 12 years.

When I see this kind of tenderness, effortlessly ingrained in how these folks do life together, it makes me sad. The kind of sad that makes you tear up— because that part of you has been cold for too long.

But it also makes me so grateful to know that we live in a world where this is possible and happening all around us, whether or not it is happening to us in any given moment…or decade.

So when Terry said hello to me last week, I was excited to talk to someone living the magic into his golden years.

“Hello, my dear. I have seen you in here before—what do you do on that computer of yours?” he asked.

“Who knows!” I said. Because I sure don’t.

He laughed with his whole body.

“I’m a mom. And a writer. And too many other things,” I said.

“What do you do?” I asked.

“Oh, well, I’m a trombonist,” he said.

“Really!” I said. “I have never met a trombonist before! I used to play trombone in 5th grade. But I couldn’t reach 7th position, so I had to use my feet!”

“You did?” he laughed.

“I was not good, but I liked pouring Pepsi onto the mouthpiece to make it taste less brassy,” I revealed.

“Oh my!” he said and shook his head.

Uh-oh—I have appalled Terry.

“Where do you play? Are you a studio musician?” I asked.

“Well, I play with the LA Orchestra and others. Have been for over 40 years, if you can believe it,” he smiled.

“You must love it,” I said.

“Well,” he shrugged. “Yes, I have. I have been quite lucky that way.”

“I’ve not had one job for longer than six years at a time,” I said. “Except being a mom—that’s 16 years and counting. And I do love it.”

I don’t remember what we said after that, but he headed out and we wished each other a beautiful day.

Terry the trombonist. Who has loved his work and loved his wife through 7th position—as far as your arm can reach. Who knows he’s lucky.

Not everyone gets that fulfilling, life-long career.

Not everyone gets that fulfilling, life-long partnership.

Not everyone gets to 82.

What I’m thinking though is that 7th position is something I can reach now with the people I’m already around. It may not be a partner; it may not be through a comet-like career arc. But I can play and play and play the notes wherever I am—and get better at the high notes that require both mouth-wind efficiency and stretching myself out as far as I can go.

It’s not always grand— it could just be dropping their empty cup in the trash. Day after day after day, even if someone isn’t doing it for me or carrying my hand back to the car.

It’s so tempting to dwell on what I don’t have. The long-term love that slides through all the notes of love. The long-term career that provides the secure ground to play the music from. But the sun is on my back at an outdoor cafe at the base of the San Gabriel mountains. Someone returned Noah’s lost wallet to the school office. And my mom sent me a giant chocolate-peanut butter egg from my hometown’s candy factory. Life itself seems to know how to love me beyond the forms we look for.

Don’t worry—I’m not taking up trombone again any time soon. I may, however, take your trash to the can, ma’am.

P.S. - Here is a free art download from me to you because I am so so grateful for you giving your time and support to me and this work.

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P.P.S. - Today I release the FIRST volume of my public archive, Varieties of Loneliness. Feel free to check it out or submit your own varieties.

P.P.P.S. - I filmed my first Cat Chat going to the cutest local cafe, so if you want to follow the adventure, come on down IG!