Thanks to my circle of friends who bought me the Uber-Music-Stand last summer for my birthday, I am happily equipped for home practice and concerts. No one, I thought, would ever have a stand like mine. (Mainly because no one else would be enough of a loon to cart the six-ton thing around. But I digress.) Solid and sturdy, with a beautiful shiny black desk that folds out to both sides, creating space enough to lay out an entire string quartet if I so desired. Adieu, page turning! Of course, adieu to page turning at home, not at concerts; we’re usually packed in like little musical sardines, so there’s no room for my Uber-Stand to achieve its full wingspan in public.
Well, at our last concert, I set up my Uber-Stand and went downstairs to stash my coat. When I came back, a second violinist was walking away with it.
“Hey! Hey!” I said. “That’s my stand!”
We argued about it for a moment, then I convinced her that it was mine and off she went in a bad mood to locate hers, which she had just bought. (Someone had put it behind the door. Go figure.) So, with my beloved Uber-Stand back in my possession, I then and there resolved to find some way to identify it as mine forever and ever.
As of yesterday, I now have sparkly Harry Potter Hedwig owly stickers to put on it in a relatively inconspicuous place. Heck, I’ve had one on my laptop since I got it; why shouldn’t I put some on my music stand too?
No one will try to claim it as theirs now. No, sir.