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i have always been partial to the trumpet. My grandfather gave me my first trumpet when i was nine years old. He got it used, and it had seen better days. The bell was bent and the brass finish was pitted, but there wasn’t anything more beautiful to me. i can remember, however, the dreadful sounds it initially made, due in no part to the instrument itself, when i first put it up to my lips.
Gratefully, perhaps out of self-preservation, my parents soon arranged for me to receive lessons from Mrs. Finkbinder. i thoroughly enjoyed those weekly lessons. i envisioned myself becoming a trumpet virtuoso like my instructor. But sadly, i must confess, during those early years, i was less enthusiastic about my daily practice times between lessons. So, though my knowledge of the basics soon improved, my playing was less melodious and more mechanical.
One day in the wilderness, the Lord said to Moses, “Make two trumpets of beaten silver.”