"Play the drums, Pamela"

Drumming.  "Play the drums, Pamela."

Drumming, that's what my fingers were doing on the truck door window ledge where I was resting my arm.  Darling Hubby was sipping his coffee with one hand and driving with the other, later he about spewed his coffee in laughter.  We were listening to a rhythmic gospel song on CD as we were driving to church services and I was drumming with my fingers to the beat.

It all brought back a memory of when I was in high school in band class.  The bass drummer was absent so the teacher was trying a few people out on it.  Depending on the make up of the class and the disposition of the teacher I could be 1st chair, 2nd chair, or 3rd chair clarinetist.  Later, I opted to play the bass clarinet.  It was always a lot of fun, loved those deep rich sounds.

Anyway, this day Mr. Teacher requested that I go play the drums.  So, I did.  I played the bass.  Sister says the bass is basic, it's the basic beat of any song.  Well, let me tell you, half way through Mr. Teacher says -- over all the heads of all the band, the flutists, the saxophone players, the trumpeters, the trombonists, the tuba players, he stopped in mid song; he said, "You can sit down now."