The bell jangled as I pushed the front door open and let it close behind me. Compared to the dark and wintery night outside, Larry's Music embraced me with brightness. The wall's, painted light green contrasted with the rows and rows of shiny guitars lent a cheerful aspect to the little store. Although there were two comfy brown couches perched just by the doors, I moved on. I had a purpose in coming to Larry's this Friday night. The G string on my cello had broken and I was scheduled to play on Sunday morning. So while in Wooster for another reason that evening,
I had just enough time to pick up a new string and skedaddle.
"Welcome to Larry's, how may I help you?" a new guy spoke up behind the counter. Larry's is- used to be- as familiar to me as the grocery store, yet I couldn't place this guy. He was helpful though, and handed me the string in exchange for an ungodly amount of money (highway robbery). My business completed, I headed for the door. But wait a minute... I glanced at the time. I had at least a half hour before I had to be somewhere else. So now what to do with time to kill? I asked myself. I used to spend hours browsing sheet music at this store - perhaps there was something interesting on those shelves, I hoped as I backtracked.
"...I'm the best drummer in the world." I caught the end of a sentence and the eye of the tall young man who spoke it. He was the one I'd talked to when I called ahead to order the cello string. General manager? Something. I had no idea why someone would blurt out something so arrogant, but he was smiling - so did I. I turned, my attention caught by the music books again.
Yet I couldn't help but eavesdrop, because the young man kept talking: talking with somebody whose head I couldn't see. His coworker chimed in now.
"Are you sure you can afford us? We charge, like, forty bucks an hour. Per person." (what on earth? I thought. Why so discouraging to a potential customer?) But now the kid ( the one I couldn't see) was talking, and I began to understand this strange conversation.
"But we would be a good band!" said the bold little seven year old "I've even written some songs of my own." obviously trying to impress his two prospective band members.
"Oh you have?" General manager guy again ( I think his name is Kyle).
"Sing one for us then." Coworker said.
"Geez, you wouldn't want to even know the name of one of the songs I wrote."
"Come on, tell us."
"Okay" ('easily convinced, kid', I thought to myself) "it's called 'The Lady Of My Dreams'." he announced triumphantly.
"Hey!" Kyle encouraged "there's a hit single right there! Think of all the other hit titles - that fits right in." The coworker agreed.
"You could be the drummer - " spoke the seven year old (to Kyle )"and what can you do?" turning to the coworker.
And then as they talked music hit history for a bit I tried to pay attention to my music books and act as though I wasn't listening. The smile on my face said otherwise, though, so I kept my head turned until I heard the kid's mother join the conversation.
"Honey, your teacher wants to talk to you about your practice log time" the kid's Mom called from the back of the store, where she'd been speaking with his teacher.
"Oh. Um. Mom, do you remember that deal we had about practicing, since I was too busy and stuff last week?" the kid asked cautiously.
"That means you will practice at least twice this week, right?" the music teacher cajoled, joining the conversation.
"Two times! That's so much!" (wow kid, you really are new to this whole practice makes perfect thing, aren't you?)
"Whoa whoa whoa - we have decided to make a deal with you." Kyle and the coworker intercepted the kid's complaining: "you practice 15 min a day, and we'll be in your band." Kyle smiled.
"Really! But 15 min every day! That's a lot!"
"Do you want a band or not?" the coworker glanced out the corner of his eye at the seven year old.
Sometimes I suppose a different perspective can change many things: at any rate, the kid picked up a guitar, started strumming. "I'll start practicing right now!" he declared.
"Honey, we are headed home instead" the kid's mom picked him up. "Thank you guys!" she yelled over her shoulder. I stood and smiled to myself. Kyle, the teacher and the coworker headed back to their respective duties, mission accomplished, the cause of music furthered.
Then I looked at the time and scrammed.
Funny thing, when I restrung my cello, I found an entirely new G string in my case, where it had been the whole time.
The story was worth it.
