Finding Value in Forgotten Talents

When I was in middle school, I played cornet in the band. I was still learning, so I was just OK at it. Then I got braces, and my playing regressed. Significantly.

The director noticed I was struggling with my embouchure as my braces pressed against my gums every time I put my lips to the relatively small mouthpiece. He suggested I try a low-brass instrument with a larger mouthpiece and handed me a baritone horn. 

Thus began a beautiful musical relationship.

I thoroughly enjoyed playing the baritone and got pretty good at it during high school. My parents eventually bought me a silver euphonium (a close cousin of the baritone) from a friend and classmate who was a much better musician. That instrument has been in our family ever since. I went on to play in the marching band and symphonic band in college, and I played in a few summer community bands over the years.

However, as time passed, those moments of picking up my horn to play a few measures became fewer and further between. Eventually, my oldest daughter learned to play my euphonium and enjoyed a few years of doing so in middle school and high school. Later, my son would do the same. But mostly, that gorgeous hunk of metal sat in its case in our living room, its euphonious tones gone silent.

That all changed a few months ago when I was laid off. I started spending hours every day searching for a new role, but I also had a bit more free time on my hands. I realized I was thirsting for purposeful, productive activities to keep my mind engaged and my soul fed. The same musically talented friend who sold me my euphonium emailed me, suggesting that it was time to start practicing my horn again.

I hesitated at first because I knew how rusty I would be after years without practice, but I finally found the guts to take my euphonium out of its case. I oiled the valves and did some other minor maintenance, put my lips to the mouthpiece, took a deep breath, and tried to remember how to buzz the beautiful beast to life.

My first notes were not great. In truth, they were lousy. But I found some free sheet music online for well-known tunes, and I started picking my way through a few favorites. I set up a practice schedule, and I started getting better. 

I’m still nowhere near the level I reached when I was younger: my range is relatively tiny, and my tone needs work. However, I don’t sound horrible, and I now take great satisfaction in moving through simple songs with few major errors.

But even better than the improvement I’m making is that I’m enjoying every second of my musical revival! I’ve found that 30 minutes of practice is the perfect way to clear my head and revive my spirit after a morning of searching for jobs and filling out online applications. (If you’ve done this recently, you know exactly how soul-crushing those activities can be.)

As I’ve reflected on this experience, I see it has taught me a few things about the value of neglected talents. We all have something like this that we’ve left behind, whether it’s an instrument we no longer play, a hobby we gave up, or a skill we stopped developing.

My unexpected professional detour has taught me that we need to make time for such activities. They can be a source of joy, satisfaction, challenge, fun, and purposeful distraction when times get tough. They remind us of other eras in our lives and the things we did then to overcome trials or celebrate successes. They light up parts of our brains that we’ve been neglecting. 

By exercising these forgotten muscles, we allow ourselves to feel different and feel better. We give ourselves a beautiful and meaningful gift.

I know I won’t be unemployed forever. (Right? Please tell me I’m right.) But even when I’m once again in a full-time job, I’m not going to let my euphonium go back to sitting in its case in the corner. Now that I’ve revived this neglected talent, I don’t want to let it go again. If it brings me this much joy and rejuvenation while I’m looking for a job, I’m sure it will be even more useful when I’m trying to relax, reset, and refocus after a stressful day of managing teams and creating useful communication.

If you’ve got a similar gift you’ve relegated to a metaphorical corner of your life, I’d suggest you dust it off and see what happens. You and that talent might make beautiful music together once more.