Pastiche*
We all have imitated someone or something at one point in life, unconsciously or consciously. Some uncles and aunts were sources of great respect for me growing up in small town America. One of my earliest memories of imitation was my admiration of Mickey Mantle and later of Artie Shaw and Benny Goodman when I learned to play the clarinet. My father was a big fan of both clarinet players. I recall just starting to learn improvisation while in the 8th grade. I would put a record on the turntable and tried to find the key of the song. It was a great feeling. Alas high school studies put an end to my clarinet playing. It was only much later that I learned of Artie Shaw’s reason for leaving the music business. Likewise I became aware of Benny Goodman’s questionable reputation much later in life.
The imitation and flattery adage held true for one of my childhood friends. Oxford shirts with button down collars, blue blazers, khaki pants, Bass Weejuns loafers and plenty of Madras. He became fascinated by the preppy image and attended Cheshire Academy. His preferred milieu were WASPS who summered in Watch Hill and Weekapaug RI. He went to the University of Miami for the sea, sand and sun. Arthur’s parents were well off and paid for his flying lessons. He parlayed that into a career and became a pilot. I was not convinced that there was anything for me behind that facade. The ethos was one of exclusivity. A few friends warned me of farty Arty, as he was nicknamed by one of my friends. I wore the uniform for a few years while in high school and then discarded it in the mid 1960’s.
I am taking some liberty with the definition. It is the sound of the word that I like.