I found my flute

So I was rummaging in a box early on Valentine's day and I found my flute! How cool is that? I know someone used my flute for awhile, Stephanie maybe? So I didn't even realize I had it. I haven't played it regularly since 9th grade at Jenifer Junior High.

I hauled the flute case upstairs and opened it. My flute is dull and needs a good polish. It still has the big dent on the mouthpiece from the day I dropped it and it hit the base of my stand in the junior high band room.

I put the pieces together and began to play the chromatic scale. I couldn't quite get out the lowest note (C), and then I got as high as the high F, but I couldn't quite make the F#. It became a whistle of air. Maybe I had my fingering wrong. I will have to check. Then I pulled out my prayer book/hymnal and flipped to a favorite hymn and PLAYED IT! If you asked me what the fingering was for different notes, I probably couldn't tell you, but my fingers remember.

I remember being encouraged by my folks to pick an instrument to play in band when I was in elementary school. My mother played the clarinet all through school and I believe my dad played the saxophone. I remember seeing a woman play the piccolo and decided I wanted to play the flute.

My parents took me shopping at the music stores in Lewiston/Clarkston. Band started in the 5th grade, so it must have been the summer before that. I think we found my flute at Keeney Brother's, but that could be wrong. Memory plays tricks on you. I remember being frustrated that I had to get a used flute. I wanted a shiny new one. But now that I know how much instruments cost, new or used, I was lucky I got an instrument at all. I did feel special being taken shopping to buy ME an instrument though.

Mr. Campbell was the band teacher. He already had grey hair when I met him. I think he was already a grandfather at that point. I took private lessons from him as well. I remember walking up his driveway and entering through the back door into his little music room. His backyard was shadey and it was always cooler back there. Did he have a dog?

I have always been naturally gifted at music. At first I took to the flute avidly, but after awhile I became a little less excited about it. Often I would not practice at all between lessons and I could just go in and play my assignments perfectly. I wonder if Mr. Campbell knew. I would practice sometimes, especially when my mom would nag me to do it.

5th grade band at McSorley School met in the gym up on the stage. I remember the theater lights being on, bright from above, while the rest of the gym was rather dark and the stage curtain was also dark. Mr. Campbell would sit on his stool and tap his baton on his stand (tap tap tap) to keep the beat. We sounded SO BAD! Reed instruments squeaking, brass instruments struggling or hitting wrong notes. I remember thinking we would never sound good. But we worked hard.

In 7th grade we went to Jenifer Jr. High. At Jenifer we got band uniforms. Those wool sweaters with the big red J. We wore white pants and shoes with the sweaters. I remember being in 7th grade and being intimidated by all the older kids who were decent musicians. I don't remember any drummers in grade school, so it was neat to have the drummers. It seems like the drums were played by the cool people, or playing drums made you cool, I'm not sure which.

We got to march in parades which was fun. The year before I was in 7th grade, some kids that went on a band trip acted inappropriately or got in trouble. Mr. Campbell had a policy that if any kids acted out on a band trip, the punishment was no band trip for 3 years. That was a bad policy I thought. Everyone was punished because of a few people and continued to be punished even after those kids left and were at LHS.

Finally when I was in 9th grade, my last year at Jenifer, we got to have a band trip. It was a lot of fun. My friend, Mary, had been on that trip, but we weren't best friends yet. I remember riding the bus, going to Canada, sleeping in sleeping bags on the floor of a gym somewhere, visiting Ainsworth Hot Springs. It was Ainsworth, wasn't it? The hot springs had these caves you could through. I remember a pretty, developing 7th grader had a white swimsuit and her areolas showed RIGHT THROUGH HER SUIT. I remember being horrified and fascinated at the same time. I couldn't stop looking! The girl didn't know I am sure. It was partly horror because I would be horrified if it was ME showing, but I think the fascination was also mild attraction. An early sign of my late lesbianism. I think I covered up my feelings with a bit of disgust. Like "How can she go around showing her nipples like that?" or some other thought. Funny how we use disgust or arrogance to hide our true selves, even from ourselves.

Well back to Jenifer Junior High band...
Anyone remember watching "The Music Man" every year in the dark of the band room? "Gary, Indiana, Gary, Indiana, Gary, Indiana..." I know kids screwed around during the movie. I actually watched it for the most part.

Another day the band room stunk because when the choir was practicing earlier, holding candles as they sang, someone's hair allegedly caught on fire. With the 80s hairstyles, held in place by GOBS of hairspray, you can bet that was probably a dangerous situation. Burnt hair STINKS!

And then came the CHAIR TESTS! Oh how I HATED chair tests. Chair tests determined where you got to sit in the band. The best player got to sit in the first chair and that was quite the honor.

To do a chair test you had to play your instrument ALL BY YOURSELF in front of EVERYONE! I got the worst butterflies, my heart would pound, my hands would get clammy and tremble. It is bad enough to be in 7th grade and to feel self-consious for the first time, but to add performing on top of the general anxiety of being 12? You have got to be kidding! I could have used some Ativan for chair tests. They were scary.

At the end of 7th grade, I realized a girl who played flute who was higher than me, didn't know how to play a phrase of music properly. I decided to challenge her. It seems like this was the last possible time to challenge someone, so it was my last chance. I thought I was assertive in asking her. I know I was shy and scared and I don't remember what I said. But when it came down to the day, she claimed she didn't realize I had challenged her. Like maybe I was vague and said, "I want to challenge you." instead of "I am challenging you." I'm not sure, but I didn't know how to do it properly, so I ended up not doing it right and missed out on that opportunity to move up. I was kind of bummed.

I eventually got to be first chair and held that place for a long time. In 9th grade, my last year in band, the girl who sat next to me challenged me for first chair on the last day you can challenge someone. Sound familiar? Her name was Beth and she was in the 8th grade. She knew I couldn't play a certain phrase of music in a song. I would always flub it up. No one else knew I couldn't play that phrase, but she could hear me mess up and it sucked feeling that vulnerable. It felt low that she would use my one flaw against me because I thought we were friends. It felt like a betrayal. If she got first chair on a chair test it wouldn't have felt so personal. It felt different from my little 7th grade attempt at a challenge because I didn't know that girl. But hey, if I would have been in Beth's place, I would have done the same thing. First chair had some prestige.

I practiced and I practiced and knew Beth would beat me, so I had a rebuttal planned to play. A rebuttal was a chance to win your place back if you lost the challenge. Beth beat me at the phrase like I knew she would. Then came the rebuttal. We both played it perfectly. I remember Mr. Campbell saying, "Beth had better tone," and he awarded her first chair. Oh, the bitterness I felt as I moved to take second chair. My face felt hot and the shame was intense and I felt slightly resentful. This had been MY plan in the 7th grade and it didn't work for me, so for someone else to have the same plan and SUCCEED felt unfair. I was not taking lessons from Mr. Campbell anymore at this point and I think Beth was, so it also felt like favoritism to me. But even worse was how everyone CHEERED when Beth got first chair. I remember thinking, so they are glad for her, so do they not even care about me, or worse are they glad that I was humiliated? It was weird. That was a bad day for me. I can still feel how I felt when I remember it.

Eventually I got over being second chair and moved on. I had already planned on taking choir at Lewiston High School instead of band at the time I lost first chair, so I think that helped with the disappointment. I held that first chair position for most of 8th and 9th grade so it was okay that another 8th grader had the honor. After that my flute sat around in its case, mostly unused. And it got loaned out for someone to use. It seems like I heard years back that Mr. Campbell had passed away, but I am not sure about that. And eventually my flute ended up in that box.

For years my flute sat untouched and my fingers did not touch it. It is funny how your body remembers stuff like how to play an instrument after 20+ years. Practice must actually rewire your brain because the abiltiy doesn't go away. I bet if I started practicing I could be back to where I was in the 9th grade in less than 3 months. It makes you wonder what other things you carry with you. Things you don't use anymore but can just pull out if you need to. Like riding a bike or speaking a language. You never forget how to do it. Your body remembers. How much of who we are is a sum of our experiences? That is an interesting thought.

Well thanks for taking a little trip down memory lane with me. I wish everyone had the experience of playing an instrument in a band. It was actually pretty fun. Though I wish now that I had played the saxophone. The saxophone is such a sexy instrument...

My name is Cathlin

Well as the above title says, my name is Cathlin. My mother found it out of a baby book that claimed it was the Irish enduring form of Catherine. It means "little Kate." It also means "pure." My parents pronounced it "KATH-lin" just like it looks with the accent on the first syllable. NOT "kath-LIN." I guess my mom had wanted a Katie, but her sister-in-law beat her to the punch. Maybe she didn't think she could name me Katie since I had a cousin Katie, but we never lived near any of our extended family so it wouldn't have caused much mix-up.

My full name was Cathlin Jennifer McGee. I can still hear mom holler, "CATHLIN JENNIFER!" I always thought Jennifer was too long of a middle name. That is why Emily's middle name is Marie (after her great-grandma) and Rachel's is Anne (after a family friend who passed away).

My dad wanted to name me "Fulda." They lived in Fulda, West Germany at the time. I don't know WHAT he was thinking, but thankfully my mom put her foot down. Can you imagine being called FULDA? It sounds FULL, like "heavy", like a "Helga", like a large ankled, big-boned, 6 foot tall masculine woman with a kerchief over her tightly-pulled-back hair, thick hair on her lip, no makeup or jewelry to decorate her stern face, wearing a plain brown dress with an apron and thick soled heavy brown shoes. A woman who could and WOULD beat you with her rolling pin or broom if you tried to cross her. I am NOT a Fulda.

My parents called me "Callie" when I was growing up. Some of my friends adopted this name for me after meeting my parents and hearing them call me Callie. "Callie" simply means "beautiful." I have other nicknames: "Calico", "Calamity" and "Calliope."

I went by Callie in grade school until one year I was in class with a Kelly. It was confusing so I changed it to Cathlin. "Cathlin" was a pain because I had to spell it and pronounce it for EVERYONE. Everyone wanted to call me Cathrine or Cathleen. And if they got the pronunciation, they would inevitably spell it wrong "Kathlyn." And it got so old that I began answering to anything remotely close: Cathy, Cat, Caitlin, etc. It seems like the next year I was in class with a Catherine or Kathleen, and I realized I was never going to win. The only bonus was when someone FINALLY got it right, they would usually say, "Cath-lin. I've never heard that before. What a pretty name." And I would answer, "Thanks."

Back to the nicknames. Here is the origin of "Calico." I guess I cried a LOT as a baby. And my mom would be at her wit's end with me. Nothing new there. So my dad would take me in his arms and pace around the house and sing to me a song he made up just for me:

Ca-li-co
Ca-li-co
Pret-ty lit-tle ba-by
Ca-li-co
Ca-li-co
Pret-ty lit-tle girl

See her blue eyes
See her smile
See her big-round tears
When she cries

Ca-li-co
Ca-li-co
Pret-ty lit-tle ba-by
Ca-li-co
Ca-li-co
Pret-ty lit-tle girl

My dad generally didn't have much patience when I was growing up and would yell when he got frustrated. So it means even more that he was able to remain calm and soothe me when I cried and cried and cried. The song was such a hit I sang it for Emily. "Em-i-ly, Em-i-ly, pretty little baby..."

Now the "Calamity" nickname came from my Uncle Mutt-my maternal great-uncle I think is the relation. When I was around 2 or 3 years old, we lived in Lawrence, Kansas near my Uncle Mutt. I guess we would visit him and once I cornered their dog and put my fingers in his nose. I guess I also took the plug dangling from some kitchen appliance, maybe a toaster?, and sat in a corner next to their crate of potatoes and pushed that plug INTO the potatoes repeatedly. I don't know if they actually caught me in the act on that one or realized after the fact when the potatoes started to rot. I don't remember doing those things, but it does make me laugh, because it seems like I was just doing my own little toddler experiments on the world. I can even hear the crisp noise the plug probably made as it entered the pototoes and I possibly got some potato juice on my fingers.

I don't know who gave me the nickname "Calliope" but it means "one with a beautiful voice" and from what I hear I have loved to sing since very young. So it fits.

Here is a funny story:
When I was around 27, my friend Mary was getting married in Boston, so I flew out to be in the wedding party. I met her husband-to-be and all his family. They kept calling me "Kate-lin," so I corrected them. However they were IRISH, and they said to me, "Oh, in Ireland, we pronounce that spelling 'Kate-lin." It hit me then. My mother had mispronounced my name my WHOLE life! Remember? "The Irish enduring form of Catherine, meaning 'little Kate.'" It all hit me then. I had been LIVING A LIE for almost THIRTY years! I was actually supposed to be 'Kate-lin!' I remember having a chuckle over that, but the 'Kate-lin' pronunciation just didn't fit me. I was already established as a 'Cath-lin', and so 'Cath-lin' I shall stay.

Avril has never faired better. She pronounces her name "av-Rell" with the accent on the SECOND syllable. Everyone gets it wrong. Her dad actually says "av-Rill." After Avril Lavigne became famous, it got worse, because the singer has the accent on the FIRST syllable. I call her work and ask to speak to her and I get back, "Ralph? We don't have a Ralph here." I usually have to say it three times WITH her last name before they get it. Hard to hear the soft first syllable over the phone I guess. It is really frustrating.

Since we both have weird names, when we go to a restaurant that takes your name to put on a list, we use the name "Barbie." That has always been a little joke of ours. Avril started it a long time ago and it was so funny because "Barbie" is the last name she would ever have. She has no "Barbie" qualities about her with her dark hair and eyes. She never wears makeup or girlie clothes, so this would make me laugh. She can always make me laugh. But it seemed an easy and humorous remedy to the problem with pronunciation and spelling of BOTH our names, so we continue to use the name "Barbie" to this day.

I cannot tell you why our names are unique. My older brother is Matt, my sister is Sara. Avril's brother is Sean. All normal names. We gave the kids normal names to spare them the same issues.

Another topic is last names. Avril and I have our ex-husband's last names. We have kept them because our kids still carry those last names. We have talked about changing our last names to something else and sharing that last name since we are all but married. We just haven't landed on the right name yet. Avril has sentimental ties to her maiden name "Stewart" because of her dad and uncle Carl and memories on Guam. Even her mom kept her married name of "Stewart." But Cathlin Stewart just doesn't roll off the tongue.

"McGee" doesn't hold much for me. It makes me think of my folks, my mom mostly, and currently that is more a negative association than a positive one. Though technically my mom is a Henry, probably more a Heiserman like her mom. I am NOT much of a Henry in temperment in a family of Henrys. Henrys are more reserved and proper with a slight air of superiority. Oh I can have the superiority, don't get me wrong. I am just not as proper or reserved. I am a little more "out there" and am more likely to say what I mean and point out the elephant in the room. That got me in trouble a lot. I feel more ties to the McGee name because of my female McGee cousins who are beautiful and strong and say what they mean, probably more than I do. But then that trait probably comes from my Grandma McGee (God rest her soul) who was really a Knighton. So see why it is hard to think of what last name I should really have? So by default and practicality I will stay a Berreth until my kids are graduated and out on their own. I can pick that issue up again when the time comes.

Avril gives me little pet names. Currently I am "muffin" or "love muffin" or "muffin head." I think the "muffin head" came when I was losing my hair from chemotherapy, but I can't remember. Maybe it is just to differentiate me from "muffin top", which is something I don't have a problem with, always being on the slender side. The muffin name may be indirectly associated with other intimate terms like "muff" for those thinking that already, but we aren't going there. "Muffin" sounds a bit air-headish, which I admit I can be. But I don't mind the name when it comes from Avril. Because she says it with such affection. "Hows my little muffin head?" It DOES look hokey typed out, but I can hear her voice saying that phrase and it makes me smile.

I think all names are probably that way. When those special people say your name, it sounds like music. It is good to be known and loved, isn't it? That makes me think of the theme song for Cheers:

Sometimes you want to go

Where everybody knows your name,

And they're always glad you came;

You want to be where you can see,

Our troubles are all the same;

You want to be where everybody knows your name.


May everyone have somewhere they can go that is like that. A place where they are known and loved. A place to relax and be yourself with others. A place where everybody knows your name.