Elizabeth Tuba Player in Church
A lot of people had one question for Elizabeth, she once recalled, when they saw her lugging a 40-pound bass tuba down the street: “Why didn’t you take up the piccolo?” Elizabeth, the town’s only female tuba player, walks down Main Street, instrument in tow, wearing a Syracuse sweatshirt and faded jeans, her auburn hair gathered into a ponytail. She attends church every Thursday, bringing with her her tuba. This Thursday, the church is quiet and smells of powdery sugar doughnuts and hot coffee. In a room at the back of the church, Elizabeth pulls up a chair and raises her tuba to her lips. She blows a big commanding B-flat: BBBRRRPPT! Followed by some short, parpy notes: BWOOT! BWOOT! FWOP! FWUMP! To conclude, she takes up a big breath and she blows the deepest, longest note she could. Her cheeks puffed out like balloons and she crosses her eyes. The sound oozes out of the tuba like toothpaste coming out of a half-empty tube. BRRROOOMMMPAARRRRBBBAARRPT! By the time Elizabeth’s cheeks deflate and eyes uncross, she sees Pastor Jenkins standing in the doorway with a cappuccino and a doughnut in hand. “Ready for a break?” He asks. Elizabeth unpurses her lips and smiles back.
