Cork Grease-ification

Cluckswerth displays a clarinet upper joint and a tube of cork grease

Your Attention, Please!

All clarinets and saxophones have corks.

All corks need grease.

Therefore,
all clarinets and saxophones

need Cork Grease.

Really.

If you don't apply it correctly, well, Bad Things will happen to your corks.

Things that cost lots of money. Things that will make you unhappy.

(Like they squeak or even fall off!!)

Let's begin.

(Little Johnny is stunned at the size of the Cork Grease Blob needed)

Let's start with The Upper Joint.  It has TWO corks on it, one
at either end.  Both must be greased.
Yes.  EVERY time you play.

There's a specific way you are to grasp the parts of the clarinet,

but we'll just have to let THAT go.

So, for now, just be kind.

*

Open your tube of cork grease, and impress upon the cork

a size-able blob of grease.  Like maybe the size of your

little fingernail-ish.

Then, using thumb and forefinger together,

(like a ring around the cork),

rub in the grease in a brisk, fast, speedy

motion.  Fast enough, and long enough, that

the grease gets warm.

 *

It will then melt into the cork, enabling the cork to

live a long and happy life.

*

Repeat this on EVERY tenon cork on the horn

(that includes the mouthpiece).

And yes, do it every time you play. 

*

OH.

Wipe your hands off on a Gookie Rag,

and NOT on your SWAB.  EVER.

The Gookie Rag is merely on old

scrap of cotton cloth, that you 

keep in your case for such emergencies.

(One of your Dad's old, dead T-shirts will do nicely).

*

There are some VERY lovely cork grease 'kinds' out in the world.

My First Choice is Selmer,

and my Other First Choice is Doctor Slick.

Famous Doctor Slick before he became famous.

 Doctor Slick makes all kinds of cool things for clarinets, 

to make them happy, live long, and prosper.

Someday, I will convince Mildred to help me make a little book

called How To Properly Care For Your Clarinet.

Yes, with pictures.

Would you like that?

(Lemme know

and things might move along faster.)

When she does...no, better, when we finish it, I'll let you know.

Remember, 

if you take care of your horn,

it will last 'forever'.

My clarinet is 44 years old.

And looks brandy, dandy new.

Brooke

Merry Christmas!

Once upon a real time ago, God came to Earth.

As a baby.

Jesus and friend check out the stable.

 The night He was born, all the angels got excited about it,
 and sang some famous songs to a bunch of shepherds 

(who were out watching their flocks at night.)

The choir leader conducts all the angels.

God even made the stars line up in a special way,

so that Wise Men from Far Away knew

that the King had been born in Bethlehem.

So, they came to bring Him birthday presents.

The Wise Men loved Jesus the second they saw Him.

The Father, Jesus, The Wise Men, and all the angels,
want to share the words of that most famous song ever,
with YOU.

 It's the Amazingest True Story for all of us!

A page from the Angel's song book.

Happy Birthday, Jesus!







All illustrations from My Christmas ABC Book, copyright 1995 Brooke Carlton

Chalumeau, pg. 2

 .

I could hear their words waft on the breeze,
it seemed they were talking of Wood.
"Grenadilla!" both yelled,
"What a Heavenly smell!"
Then, in tandem, they pulled up more trees.

As I hid from the falling debris,
I missed their unison exit.
I turned all around,
trying to follow their sound,
and finally heard Chalumeau sneeze.

It came from The Cave Troubadour,
a shop 'neath the ground, where they lived.
Flying fast as a rocket,
I grabbed C's dirty pocket,
and snuck in as they shut the doors.

While they worked, the Twins sang their best,
a surprisingly beautiful mix.
While Chalumeau flowed,
in parts and song low,
it was Clarion who did all the rest.

The clarinet's lower physique
belongs to Chalumeau's skill.
But Clarion's own
upper, sweet tones,
are the Licorice, all clarinet's speak.

I went to see Chalumeau Forest.
Two giants there make clarinets.
I've come to conclude,
in that brief interlude,
these Twins make clarinets best.


Mildred

Chalumeau (Shall-you-MOH)

 I went to see Chalumeau Forest,

A giant there makes clarinets.

As I entered the park, I got lost in the dark,

And doubted my mission’s success.

I continued with renewed intent,

Until I ran into a wall.

I felt all about, 
It was wood, rough, and stout,

And part of a huge instrument.

I’d found a large clarinet barrel,

But this I had not seen before.

‘Twas taller than tall, had holes up the wall,

And was home to a duck, bird, and sparrow.

Then I heard singing,
In octaves too low,

As deep a voice I’d ever heard.

My flashlight revealed, 

What night had concealed,

The forest’s own Giant, Chalumeau.

He was bigger than I could take in,

With bird nest on top of his head.

As he plucked up some trees

(and did it with ease),

I discovered the Giant was twins.


(to be continued . . . ) 


.