Jo Balistreri

Going for the Brass

Our family moves from South Dakota to Wisconsin just before I enter seventh grade. Everyone has friends: I dread the first day of school, trudge up the brick path to St. Mary’s. 

every footfall leaping grasshoppers

That afternoon the bandmaster comes to the 7^th and 8^th grades looking for members, says we don’t have to own an instrument, we can rent one for a nominal fee. I’ve never played anything but the piano and this sounds fun. I choose the clarinet. My parents pay a monthly rental fee, but I don’t practice. They send it back to the music store. 

At school the next day, Sister Seraphim tells me, “You’re not getting out of the band that easy.” She shows me a trombone, and a tuba. Which one? Neither, I think, but choose the trombone, less bulky and lighter.

magnolia trees
their quiet opening
in a storm-dark sky

The trombone is long and awkward. It puts me in the brass section with the boys, the only girl. A couple of guys slide into seventh position, hit my leg and make snide remarks about the way I play. I am determined to register nothing on my face. I am also determined to play better than any of them.

By high school, my musicianship is good enough so I move up to Second Chair, still the only girl in my section. Though playing well is not the only reward. The boys think a girl trombonist is cool. Band practice is a mix of hormones and music. 

summertime
that wild-honey moon
surging

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About the Author

Jo Balistreri began her creative life as a pianist and harpsichordist. In 2005, she began writing free-verse poetry after losing her hearing and her ability to play music, and in 2015 registered for a mentoring program through the Haiku Society of America. She has since published widely and in 2019 was included in A New Resonance 12. http://maryjobalistreripoet.com/

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