I played french horn from the time I was 11 until I was about 20. My parents invested a lot in my skill. I got private lessons. My parents were both horn players, too (and my maternal grandmother before them), so when I was in my very early years, my mom would play duets with me.

I was pretty good, in terms of a high school player. I was in the local select orchestra. I’d play with friends. I could’ve been better, if I practiced more, but I hated practicing.

Anyway, as is the case with so many childhood skills, I left school, I no longer had an activity that forced me to pick it up regularly, and it fell by the wayside.

I still kept my horn, of course. It was my dad’s before it was mine. I loved it — no, him. His name is Charlesworth. (In an adolescent affectation, every horn I played was given a Ch- name.) He has moved with me from house to house. Once or twice a year, I’d pick him up and play a few scales, maybe a couple bars of the high school fight song. Just to prove I still could.

But this year — between pandemic, getting a sousaphone for Erik to play with, and generally being in a place where I feel safe being my full self — I am actually practicing again. I’m getting out my old Method books, and actually going through the exercises for breath control, embouchure control, etc.

It’s been an interesting experience. Some reflections in no particular order:

• I have no muscle memory for G. On the horn, (middle) C, E, G, C are all open. I consistently flub getting to “G”, whether just doing exercises or trying to find the notes.
• As a kid, I learned a lot about how to practice, but I didn’t really understand it. I would go through the rote stuff my teachers set me, but thought it was pointless torture. It is interesting now to revisit those lessons as an adult, and put them to practice (pun intended).
• I am keenly aware of all the skills I’ve lost. My tone is much raspier than it once was. I struggle mightily with dynamic control. My tonguing is sloppy. I know I’ll get all this back with time and effort, but right now it’s just… a little frustrating.
• In other ways, my muscle memory is on point. The flow from reading the note to having my fingers react is still effortless.
• I was never good at the upper range of the horn, and it’s now gone completely. Anything above the C-above-middle-C? Forget it.

But I’m having fun. It feels good to make music again, even poorly. I have an appointment to get the piano tuned in a couple of weeks, and I expect to re-teach myself how to practice that instrument as well.

It is, perhaps, easy to think of those childhood lessons (piano, ballet, martial arts, whatever your thing was) as things that belong solely to childhood. But they don’t, actually. They just taught you skills, and you can pick those skills up again later in life. You don’t have to do the thing on a professional level, or even a dedicated amateur. You don’t even have to do it well enough to demonstrate to anyone outside the privacy of your home. But, you can still do it, for the love of it.