PLAYING THE LAST CORNET

Trumpets are always the hot instrument in a band or orchestra; cornets, on the other hand, are now rare. With the exception of the master player Bobby Hackett, this small horn gets fewer accolades these days. But there's one cornet which gets all my applause. The one my Grandfather used to play...

He migrated to Arizona in 1899 to be part of the immense copper mining industry burgeoning our of its ragged mountains. That was long before Arizona was even a state. Instead, it was Geronimo and Cavalry, saloons and shootouts up until 1912. But while Grandpa Bart carried the inevitable 6-gun, he always preferred playing his golden cornet. Weddings, births, baptisms, anniversaries. Any time there was an excuse to make a happy sound.

Gramps died when I was only seven, but we kept his now-tarnishing cornet. I never could play the darn thing, but loved holding it in my hands. A genetic link with my past, my origins, my pride. However, when the family moved out of the old home, somehow that splendid Tut's Tomb of a relic got lost. Never again to be seen or held or loved.

I report this for only one reason. A warning. When your grandparents and then your parents die -- now suddenly you are an orphan! In all orphanhood's cold emptiness! Your last immediate ties to the songs and secrets of your past have just slipped from out of your fingers. So you will want to remember....

.... any aging photo, wrinkled letter or especially cornet must now and forever be held tight.