Reveille I knew from my Wee Sing Silly Songs cassette. Bugle calls helped fill the 30 mandatory minutes of daily trumpet practice when warmups, exercises, concert pieces, and unnecessary valve oiling fell short. I took up trumpet to please my father, who told me that he wanted to play trumpet as a child but did not have the opportunity. The Kid is a hero.įrom my own ancient times, I was interested in bugle calls. He’s a squirrelly little dude who makes our Guffman-ish gatherings sound official and patriotic. The Kid is not a Boy Scout, but the Boy Scouts invite him and his taps to dignify the flag burning ceremony they hold each summer. The Kid is a middle school trumpet player who plays taps when called upon by the local chapter of the American Legion. The town doesn’t have a lot of things, but it does have a bugler: the Kid. The population sign at the limits of the town where I live posts a number slightly over 1000. Still, there’s no substitute for live music. These devices sound good and get the job done: any old body can put the bugle-bot up to his mouth and give the mourners their taps. Somebody invented a bugle with a speaker inside it that plays taps at the funeral of an individual who has earned military honors. Small towns are long on veteran funerals, and short on buglers. I did not imagine that any qualifier other than “maternal” would accompany the title. That is how I missed the point of a liberal arts education, but I had given nine years of my life to playing brass instruments, so I had it in me to become a bugler. I gave up on my brass career after my first year of college, during which I realized that band was packed with people who were more talented and committed than I was and, moreover, were music majors. Bugles are loud, and the variety of calls would give the kids some notice as to why they were being summoned.Ī bugle is not the solution for everymom. My little flea market cowbell wasn’t loud enough, and it also only said one thing. My kids go where they go, and I need to get them back at times. The desire was neither idle nor cosmetic. It is a mark of the middle class to maintain a low-grade prowl on eBay or Craigslist for some odd thing.
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