If You Want To Play the ‘Minuet in G’

Things I Used To Do Again

The Music Man (1962) is one of my childhood favorite movies. And my favorite thing about the movie is the “think system” as sold by Professor Harold Hill.

If you want to play the ‘Minuet in G,’ think the ‘Minuet in G.’

Regardless of musical talent, training, or commitment to practicing, if you could think it you could play it.

My grandparents had a player piano in the living room. It was so big and bulky. And amazing. They also had an unbelievable collection of music rolls. I would sit on the bench. Carefully take one of the fragile rolls from the musty box and load it around the metal bar. My blood pumping as I got ready to pump the pedals. As my feet propelled the music to play, I would move my hands up and down the black and white keys like I was a world class pianist. It was more than play or fun. It was formation of my creativity and imagination. It was where I learned the power of thought. Even when the world around me was spinning in weird, difficult, and confusing ways, playing this piano was a way of thinking differently; a time of thinking deeply; and an exercise in thinking of a life free from the neglect and abuse I knew. And even if it was just a dream, dreaming of happier days helped me survive the really painful ones.

If I could think it, certainly it could come to be.

I was in fifth grade the first time I held an alto saxophone. It was beautiful and intimidating. And light and heavy and so shiny. So full of hopes and possibilities. And pressure. I knew it was a stretch for my family to pay the monthly rental fees. I had thoughts of being Becky G—like Kenny G, but more famous and fabulous.

Band class at school was only a few days a week for a short session. In the beginning, I practiced every day at home. I took notes in my folder and on the edges of my music. It was exciting. Until it wasn’t. And by seventh grade it really wasn’t.

Going from a small elementary school to a large school that was both a Jr. and Sr. High was not a smooth transition. Going from walking to school to taking a bus across town was not an easy ride, especially trying to carry a large saxophone case on a bus that never had enough seats. Hormones and body changes, shifting family dynamics and teenage angst were the perfect recipe for despair that quickly spiraled to depression, and for feeling helpless and thinking life was hopeless. By the end of that school year my saxophone went in the closet, where it stayed until it was returned to the music store rental office the following year when I did not elect to take another band class. Looking back, I recognize a connection between the rising of depression and self-hatred and the fading of creativity and imagination.

I couldn’t think it so surely it wasn’t possible.

My journey with depression didn’t end simply because of positive thinking. Maintaining good mental health is an ongoing effort. And what works for me may not work for you. Never let someone else tell you how to care for yourself. And if that self-care includes therapy or medication there is no shame in that. More than once I was told that I could think myself out of a bad spot, and if I couldn’t get out that was because I wasn’t thinking hard enough. Creativity and imagination are part of my healing, but not the sum of it.

In 2017—a year that was marked by immense change, grief, and letting go—I decided I wanted to pick something up. I needed something to focus on besides the emptiness.

I went to a local music store. There was no player piano and it wouldn’t have fit in the car or the house anyway. There were several shiny saxophones. There were shelves and shelves of music books and stands, reeds and cork grease, and neck straps and cleaning clothes. It was a bit overwhelming.  

As I stood there, it was like being in a museum of what used to be, with reminders of things I used to do, relics left from those years spent in the eye of a storm, flashing lights of worry and neon signs of fear. What am I going to be and do now? While I was tempted to run, I was able to center myself, take some deep breaths, and name what I came for.

I walked out the proud owner of a slightly used alto saxophone and a hot pink brand-new neck strap. And I was signed up for weekly lessons that I faithfully attended every Saturday. I even played in a recital, where I was by far the oldest student. And it was so wonderful!  Playing the saxophone again, I learned to breathe deep; to think I could do just about anything; to make fresh space for creativity and renovated room for imagination

In 2019 when I moved to Florida, a move imagined long before it happened, I took my saxophone with me. In 2023 when I came back to Michigan it hadn’t been touched other than to load in and out of moving trucks. I think the stress of relocating and starting over, and a global pandemic impacted a lot of thoughts and plans.

A few months ago, after several moments of just staring at the saxophone case in the closet, I took it out. And opened it up. And put it together. And started to play a few notes. And the next day I played a few more. And the day after that even more.

And in doing things I used to do again, I found that I have made peace with who I used to be and discovered that who I was isn’t all that separate from who I am and am becoming. I have forgiven myself and healed in so many ways. I have envisioned new dreams, embraced a call to creativity, encircled imagination into all areas of my life.

My goal is not to be Kenny G or John Coltrane or the Jazz Man, Bleeding Gums Murphy from The Simpsons, but only to be me. The best me I can be. The me I am ever becoming.

My saxophone playing now is a meditative practice. Helping me to breathe. To pray. To work out the knots in my shoulders and the worries in my heart. To map out plans. Piece together ideas. To write poems, stories, and sermons. To smile more. To relax. To have fun. To think.  

My summer becoming board is full of saxophone dates.

What’s one thing you used to do and might think about doing again? What’s one wonderful thing that has happened in your life that you thought was possible long before it came to be?

If you think the ‘Minuet in G’, you might just play it.

If you think the life you long for, you just might live it.

Water-fully yours,
Rebecca & 10 Camels

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