My first instrument was the alto horn. It’s like a child tuba, if the baritone horn is an adolescent tuba. The thing is I initiated it. When I was in fourth grade the alto horn seemed big, and I wanted to lay a big horn. My primary school was blessed with an excellent instrumental music program. I can barely remember not being able to read music. I switched to baritone horn in about the sixth grade. Later I would learn piano, guitar, and become inordinately fond of choir singing.

We rented that baritone horn so long that we owned it. My sister borrowed it for the 35 years or so that she taught elementary school music. She gave it back to me fully reconditioned recently, so I practiced to get some of my chops back and, at the urging of a friend, entered the activist brass band subculture. So far I am having a blast.

In short, music has been a source of joy all my life, but then no one ever tried to push it on me.

My daughter took up the clarinet in elementary school but soon decided it was not for her and quit. More recently in adulthood she bought herself a guitar as started taking lessons. She prefers going to the music studio and paying for private lessons over learning from the internet, and has the means to do so. she reports that it brings her great happiness although I have not yet heard her play. I’ll hear it when she is ready for me to. I do know that she has a lovely voice.

Music can bring a great deal of joy but forcing it on a reluctant young person is the surest way to kill that joy.