Of things

One of our friends who visited recently is 12 years old, a very good age, as I remember. He's a lad of many parts -- a big boy who's well coordinated and a good athlete, a nicely verbal kid, a kid with a talent for the visual, and perhaps the last kid in the world who's being raised to say 'please' and 'thank you,' as we used to do in this part of the world. The latter is mainly owing to his parents' gentle but constant cuing at the appropriate places for the words. As I recall, that's how I learned. He was noodling around on his guitar, playing 'Norwegian Wood,' while they were here. The funny thing here is that he's also recently taken up playing the tuba and loves it extravagantly. His mother says, with some wonder in her voice, 'Tuba scholarships go begging.' Many paths to the top of the mountain, including the low-brass road. A gentleman of my acquaintance says, 'All music is improved by the addition of tubas.'