(or, Hey, Uncle Dickie, this one’s for you.)

I tell people that living here sometimes is like living on the set of Stomp. 

I’m not sure they believe me. But at this house, everything is at some point tested and utilized for its acoustic quality. Then the clang of plates, the clink of glasses, the thud of the couch, the thwop of the wall and more are all used in compositions of all sorts, like mealtime rhythms and potty songs, brushing-teeth interludes and downstairs marches.

In the past two months, David (and Carmen, but David is the more enthusiastic percussionist in his house) has been received two new pieces of inspiration.  First, one sunny morning we took a walk to the Rockin’ Robin.  The Rockin’ Robin sells guitars and stacks and stacks of drums.  Against one wall is a large shelf full of drumsticks.  We couldn’t leave the store without a pair.  Then, a couple of weeks ago, we saw a trash can percussion ensemble.  This last experience was not especially important until we we replaced the upstairs air conditioner this weekend, when the rhythm-seeking, the drumsticks, and the quest for the perfect sound all came together.

So the HVAC technicians could access the compressor of our air conditioner, we had to move away from the back fence.  One of the items we moved was an old-style, Oscar the Grouch-style trash can, sans a lid (the missing lid was part of the reason it’s been assigned to the back fence).  To prevent the trash can filling with water, I turned it upside down. 

Just like, David realized, a drum.  This afternoon he found two skittles pins (the closest things to drumsticks he could find at the moment) and started to work.  Imitating her mother Carmen shook her head, said “This noise is making me sick!” and marched upstairs.

(The video is taken from the balcony.  David is camera-shy these days, and I didn’t want to spoil his fun.)

To help him along a bit I brought out the drumsticks, and while I was at it brought out a large pot from the local restaurant supply store. Too big for anything except Matt’s culinary dreams, it had been in the attic until we cleaned it out for the HVAC work.

David played until he realized Matt was on his way to the hardware store.  He ran upstairs, handed the drumsticks over, and went on his way.