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Me, Myself, and The Saxophone
It was a late Thursday afternoon, and I had just come home from basketball tryouts at about 8:30. I still hadn’t finished my homework nor eaten dinner and it was an understatement to say that I was tired. I was exhausted and just wanted to mosey my way up the stairs and crawl into my warm bed. But, I couldn’t because I had a big narrative to write that was due the next day.
My father had bought a brand new saxophone about 2 weeks ago and had been practicing nonstop since then. Everyone in my family, including myself, wanted to rip their hair out because of the constant racket he was making. Tonight was no different than any other and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stand it especially after the day I had. I decided I had heard enough and that it was time to approach him.
“Dad,” I said sternly, “I’ve had a rough day and I still have a bunch of homework to finish up for tomorrow. Can you please stop playing that saxophone? The sound is a nuisance and I cannot really focus with it bellowing in the background all night.” I knew that this would grind his gears because he hates it when people tell him to stop practicing.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, big guy. Who died and made you king around here huh? I pay the bills in this house and I’ll play the saxophone if I damn well please! As a matter of fact, I have Brian and Terry on their way over here now bringing their saxophones. We have a big gig tomorrow and decided to practice before show time. So you better get used to the noise pal, otherwise you better go pitch a tent out in the backyard. I had just as rough of a day as you and I will not let my 16 year old son tell me what to do!”
I could not believe what I just heard, my own father just told me to pitch a tent in the backyard. His comments infuriated me and had lit a fire in my heart. Considering how polite and restrained I addressed the situation, you would have thought that maybe he would say, “Ok, I’ll stop for now, let you finish for homework and then I’ll play after.” But no, He had to be selfish enough to not consider how I felt and tell me to sleep outside before he stopped playing the saxophone. I simply was stunned and decided that if I wanted my way, I would have to implore other means.
I approached him and said, “Since we are clearly not on the same page, how about a compromise?”
“I’m listening…” he responded firmly.
“I will not complain for the rest of the night about your obnoxious saxophone playing if I wake up to fresh pancakes tomorrow morning on the table at 7:00 sharp. What do you say?”
“Absolutely not, I don’t have time for that. Now go do your homework!”
My attempt to resolve the conflict clearly did not turn out like I planned. At this point I realized there was no hope in getting him to stop. I sulked up the stairs and struggled to finish writing my narrative that was due the next day.
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