Monday, November 19, 2007

Ghost in the Graveyard

One wonderful thing about being a tutor or teacher is that you are constantly learning, not only in an effort to keep up with your students, but *from* your students. On the music side of things, I still use a lick in the "Jesse Polka" that one of my students put there accidentally about ten years ago. I never would have thought of it myself and it certainly adds a nice bit of variety to the song.
On the more practical side of things, last week after a literature lesson, I learned how to play "Ghost in the Graveyard". Like all the better games, it is somewhat conducive to black eyes and bloody noses unless handled with care--so consider yourselves warned. You choose somebody to be the "ghost". Then you turn off all the lights (and if you are truly thoughtful put away any china statues that are standing out in the open). Then, to make sure the ghost has no advantages you put a blanket over his head. (You see what I mean? It's the sort of game in which subtlety, stealth and sharp ears are really much more useful than speed. . .but the high-spirited and excitable still insist on running into corners, couches, refrigerators, and any available stationary object. The more timorous and crafty (me) prefer to sidle along the wall, feeling carefully and silently for the corners and sliding their feet over the floor so as not to come suddenly upon the couch leg. Even so, it is fun. Excuse me, I digress.) After you have the ghost properly blanketed, you begin to sneak about the room. The idea is quite simple--that the ghost is going to tag you if he finds you, and if he does, you are going to be the ghost. No matter which side of the blanket you are on, this concept is infinitely intriguing.

You learn something new. . .

I was thinking:
1. I don't write an awful lot on here
2. There are a lot of interesting things to write about, or even just to know about.

For instance, there is the sarrusophone. One of the fellows who comes into the shop is a clarinet/saxophone/oboe teacher and in a random moment recently, he brought up the sarrusophone. It was, evidently, meant to be a marching version of bassoon-like instruments. Somehow, it never caught on much (the very look of it frightens and perplexes me, but then again, I'm just a piper--what do I know?) If you read every word in this article, you will know more about sarrusophones than I do. . .and you are welcome to it: