On Saturday, I will don my subtly pin-striped, jet black suit, my well-polished Honors Program lapel pin, and a very smart, satin bow tie. I will carefully set an orange kerchief in my left breast pocket, breath deeply, closing my eyes, and pick up my trumpet to perform a Rafael Mendez arrangement.
I will also be wearing Arwen™ ears, a green felt hat, and pointy green shoes, the bells on their tips tinkling gently.
And the children at the open door recital, including those who are still beautiful, even if they live in adult bodies, will have seen the friendly, noble characters of myth, and smile and laugh and clap. I'll smile back, maybe with an elfish grin and laugh myself.
For a few brief hours I will be an elf. There is so little joy, so little laughter in this world. Maybe I can change that, for a few brief hours.
The next afternoon, I will be sitting, in the same suit, the same bow-tie, but I will no longer be an elf. If all goes well, clear, melodic, bold, and lyrical music will spring around the audience from the band as I weave in an out, here playing a supporting role to the bass, to the clarinets, and to the tuba, then, in a sudden weave, emerging myself to play a note, a phrase, or be accompanied in a solo by the whole band.
For us all comes liquid emotion, perusal and forgotten smiles flowing back, a memory, a sorrow maybe too, but always a pleasure.
For a few brief hours, I will be a herald, a street-musician, an old man in a deafened room, and someone watched over by, watching over the beautiful voice of an amazing singer.
In the meantime, it's all work and no play. Hope to see you there!