I left my home in Kansas just as my brother was almost getting close to good on his trumpet. There was still that time, every day, when he was supposed to go in to the spare room, close the door, and play his trumpet. Even with an old house, it wasn't too bad at muffling the sound.

Well, now "little Jeremy" in the next apartment building over is learning to play the trumpet. And with the beautiful weather (in the 70's) we've been having, Jeremy has been practicing in his corner room with both of the windows open. We can hear him clearly as he struggles through "Oh When the Saints go Marching In" and other such popular band numbers.

At least I haven't been trying to sleep while he practices.