I’m Bessie, born in Paris, a Selmer Mark VI alto saxophone. My creator, a meticulously detailed craftsman, took great care while making me and he gave me a family. I had friends who looked different from me and we all stood proudly in our shelves and lit up the store with our presence. I was proud to be a part of the “Die Holzbläser” store in Berlin, it’s workshop is among the finest I believe.
One day an elegantly dressed man walked into the store looking for one of us. He and the store manager Henry, while walking slowly and gazing across our neatly lined up aisle, spoke about us and how we differ in our characteristics. They stopped right in front of me, reached out and picked me up. It was the day I left my home for a new adventure. The road ahead for me was purpose built and since the man who bought me didn't try me out, I gathered I was a gift for someone else, you see, I was built intelligent. My excitement overtook any possible nervousness. I was packed with great care and prepared for transportation to my new home.
The ride was bumpy, on reaching the destination my new owner carried me out of the box, put a ribbon on me and placed me back in the box, I noticed it was a dimly lit house and I was being placed below a beautifully decorated tree. The next day, the box was opened with great sounds of excitement and I met my owner, my buddy Marcus who was only
15. Marcus picked me up, unwrapped my white, soft snowflake wrapping. Every glimpse I got of Marcus while being unwrapped suggested that here’s a great partner who’s so excited to receive me. Finally, his face lit up as he saw his reflection on my body, I knew immediately, we will be best friends.
Ever since that day I went with Marcus everywhere, we spent hours practicing, trying new popular songs, composing some original stuff which were kept private as our little secrets. Thankfully I got over those initial days of being filled with learner’s spit and changes of reed quite quickly. I was the one who was on stage with Marcus on his first ever stage performance. Though, we both were nervous the night before, we created magic on stage that 1st show day, one of my best memories. I've been with Marcus for 12 years now, I’ve been his best buddy on every show and every performance in private of public. He played his saddest tune through me when his grandmother passed away and that was a hard day for both of us.
From busking on the streets and playing with the best undercover top artists to restaurant gigs, we did it all. Marcus is well known now. We were set up for an exclusive gig in LA with some big names in the music business. Like always I felt we were headed to the stage but when the box was opened and a strange cold hand touch me, it didn't take time to realize I was either lost or stolen away from Marcus. I realized the cold hands were that of a store keeper of some kind, there were many items around, bags and things that looked like “left luggage” that I had heard about from some of my old friends at the “workshop” of Die Holzbläser. It’s the most fearful fate of any instrument. Time, weather and dust took a toll on me. I’m now here on a dark, cold shelf. My neighbour, or should I say “inmate” here is a broken trolley bag which belonged to some heiress. It looks like a graveyard of broken dreams.
Depressions is setting in, being thrown at and thrown around, I’ve got dents, the rats gnawed at the reed. How could Marcus forget me? How could he lose me and not come back? I know he was tired from the travels but I’m his best friend, we were always together. I miss home and that’s being with Marcus. He must be looking for me. How I wish there was a way he could track me down on his own. When he finds me he’s going to be angry with that big burly store keeper who bruised me so much and broke my keys.
Questions trouble my mind, if he finds me all banged up will he still want me? Will he replace me for a younger modern, high tech model? Maybe he moved on in life and this is the end. I was with him on his journey of being a musician, from the first note to the finest one at the last concert. I was there in his first performance, I was there for his first major record deal, I was there when he was hurting as well. I've seen him in his happiest and saddest.
I know he'll find me or some change in the system that unites an instrument like me with his best buddy and not land up homeless in a pawn shop down the alley.
