I knew I wanted to be in band; my brother was in band. But I didn’t know what I wanted to play until my dad came home with a trumpet one day. He’d been at a furniture store when a shipment of used furniture had arrived, and for some reason a trumpet had come with it. The furniture store owner didn’t want the trumpet. My dad did. One thing led to another, my dad paid $10 for the instrument, and a little while later he got the $10 back because the furniture store owner hadn’t really wanted the money in the first place—he just figured he should charge something for the trumpet since other customers were in the store.
And so…Deanna started 6th grade band as a trumpet player playing a free antique trumpet.
I grew up in a small town. In small towns, the band director sometimes works at both the middle and high schools. When the band director works at both the middle and high schools, middle school students sometimes get to march in the high school marching band.
Deanna started marching in the high school marching band as a second/third trumpet player in 7th grade.
In 8th grade, though, my band director decided that he needed depth in his brass section, so he asked me to switch to mellophone. The mellophone, he said, was the marching French horn.
Deanna marched her 8th grade year with the mellophone…and her 9th, 11th, 12th, and 14th. She skipped marching with the mellophone her 10th grade year because she was the drum major that year. She only played one year in college since Meredith did not have a marching band and going to NC State was somewhat of a hassle.
When concert season began my 8th grade year, my band director told me that playing the French horn was just like playing the trumpet. He said that just as he’d needed depth during marching band season, he needed depth during concert season.
Deanna began playing the French horn incorrectly her 8th grade year. She continued playing French horn through college and continues playing for special occasions today.
I auditioned for Governor’s School during my 10th grade year. I auditioned using my school’s broken and dented French horn. The woman who auditioned me immediately realized that I was playing the horn incorrectly. I was using trumpet fingerings and had no idea what the thumb valve even was—because it was broken. Yet she saw and heard potential in me and accepted me for Governor’s School that summer.
Deanna’s family was going to be moving the summer Deanna was slated to go to Governor’s School. Remember: Deanna played her school’s broken and dented horn; therefore, Deanna could not move with the horn. Deanna had a problem. To make matters worse, Deanna’s new band director—the one who had chosen her as drum major her sophomore year—was considering getting a new horn for the school. Deanna’s band director wanted her to try it out.
It was shiny and silver and the thumb valve worked. It lived in a beautiful case. It was perfect. It was perfect when I took it home to practice while my parents cooked supper in the kitchen and it was perfect when I played it in the Christmas concert at school. I was very sad when my band director had to send it back to the company. I couldn’t believe that some other horn player would get to play that beauty the next year.
Deanna was perfectly content with her presents on Christmas morning of her sophomore year when her brother pointed out that there was a large bag under the tree. He suggested that Deanna see what the package was. Deanna confusedly walked to the tree, wondering what in the world was waiting there. She first saw it was for her. She then realized it was in the shape of a French horn case. She then decided that her parents had gotten her a used horn to take to Governor’s School. She finally opened the bag, saw the beautiful case, realized what was inside, hugged the shiny new horn in disbelief, and cried. Her entire family cried, too. Deanna’s family had tricked her and created one of the most beautiful moments in Deaton Family history.
I began learning to play the horn properly while at Governor’s School. My teacher there—the woman who had auditioned and seen potential in me—patiently worked with me and offered to teach me private lessons for the next two years until I went to study with her for four more years at Meredith. Somehow, I became decent enough that I earned a scholarship for playing the horn.
Deanna tells her students all the time that one never knows where music will take him/her. From a free, antique store trumpet to a total surprise of a new French Horn; from a band director who challenged her to a professor who believed in her when maybe she shouldn’t…Deanna’s life has been profoundly impacted by music and by the musicians who have made it.
What about your life? What and who has impacted you? Be grateful today. For you—we—truly are blessed.
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