One of the things we do here at Just Another Ordinary Day is raise awareness of obscure, unofficial holidays that otherwise might be misconstrued as just another ordinary day. We’ve helped you celebrate National Make Your Bed Day, National Dog Day, National Chocolate Day, National Talk Like a Pirate Day and, for obvious reasons, one of my favorites National Hug a Newsperson Day. As the mother of a saxophone-playing newsperson, National Saxophone Day also holds a special place in my heart. It’s a day that honors saxophones and saxophonists, most notably Adolphe Sax, the musician who invented it. .
National Saxophone Day is commemorated every year on November 6 (the day on which Adolphe Sax was born back in 1814) and it completely slipped my mind this year, robbing me of a rare quasi-viable excuse to call my saxophone-playing newsperson. Don’t misunderstand me. We’re not estranged or anything like that, we text frequently, but every once I a while I
want need to hear his voice (so I know he is alive and/or it is actually him I’m texting and not some psychopathic, disgruntled political reporter holding him hostage in order to extort Breaking News assignments) so I call… just to say hi. Evidently, I am uniquely gifted at calling him at the WORST possible moments…
…so I’ve learned to stifle the impulse to call when it strikes. Still, it bears repeating, I
like need to hear his voice every once in while (see above) so I’m kicking myself for not seizing the opportunity to call when it came my way (hint, hint… call your mother).
You can get away with calling a person four days late to wish him happy birthday, but not so much for National Saxophone Day. Even calling on the actual day is nothing but a thinly veiled excuse for my hidden agenda, but I can’t let the day pass without some sort of hat tip to my favorite saxophonist.
So here’s to the $150 Rascher mouthpieces (3 of them to be exact) you left in various places around the house so the family dog could chew them.
Here’s to the that lovely fall afternoon, 15 years ago, when you decided to practice outside on the deck, prompting an alert from the neighborhood watch warning of an impending threat posed by some unseen, yet NOT unheard animal (possibly a sick or injured wild boar) wandering about our backyard.
Here’s to the sweet image of you tapping your left foot…always your left foot… during band concerts, while practicing in the living room and on the occasions of your impromptu kitchen jazz solos…You Say Potat-oh, I Say Potato-ah – while I cooked dinner.
While I wish I hadn’t squandered the opportunity to hear your voice on November 6, I’ll settle for reminiscing. It seems like only yesterday… Belated Happy National Saxophone Day to my favorite saxophone-playing newsperson and thanks for the memories.
(Hint, hint…call your mother.)