Drummer Boy Tommy

            by Evan Hughes

 

 

Tommy was a wild kid.

 

He was noisy and energetic.  And sometimes he drove his mom crazy.

He would pick up any object he could find, and start to bang it on something.

His mom would say, “Tommy, stop that banging!  Don’t do that! You’ll break something!”  But Tommy didn’t mean any harm by it.  He just liked the way it sounded when his toy truck hit the stove, and when his mom’s pan hit the floor. To him, it wasn’t noise.  He liked the TING the BOP and the BANG.

 

At school Tommy would take his pencils and bang them on the table. He would do his work, and could listen to the teacher, but the pencils, long and thin, made his fingers want to move. They begged to be tapped on the table when he held them, so he tapped them. The other kids around him would always say, “SHHH!”  And Tommy would stop, but he wanted to hit them more.  Sometimes he hit them so hard that he broke the pencil in half.  When he would raise his hand to ask the teacher for another, she would say, “Tommy, I’ll give you another pencil only if you promise to stop banging them on the table.”  Tommy would nod his head in agreement, and try his hardest to stop banging. But he loved the feel of the pencil in his hand, and he loved the TAP the CLICK and the THUD.

 

 

When his family would sit down for dinner, Tommy would grab his fork and start to hit it on the plate. Then he would hit it on the table, and then on the glass.  Sometimes he would pick up his spoon and hit the plate with both. His mom would cover her ears and say, “Tommy, stop making that noise!  You’re going to break the plate if you bang on it that hard.  Now use your fork the proper way and eat your vegetables.”  Tommy didn’t like to make his mom upset, so he did as he was told. The fork felt heavy in his hand and he could hear the CLINK the PING and the TINK in his head as he forced down some green beans.

 

When his mom took him shopping for groceries, Tommy grabbed the zucchini and start to bang it on the fruits.  Eventually the grocery store manager came over and had to talk to Tommy.  “You can’t be banging our food like that, son.  No one will want to buy food that had been damaged.”  Tommy was embarrassed, and said he was sorry.  His mom apologized to the store manager, and kept a firm grip on Tommy’s hand the rest of the time, to make sure he didn’t get into any trouble. He wanted to pick up the carrots and the bananas and feel what they would sound like on the potato bin and the watermelons, but his mom made him push the cart instead. So he tapped his fingers on the handle as he pushed and pretended his fingers were ears of corn and asparagus stalks.

 

 

Tommy was determined to be good when his mom told him they needed to go shopping.  “If you try your hardest and promise not to misbehave in any store, we’ll stop and get a big treat on the way home,” his mom said.  Tommy wanted to please his mom, but knew it would be hard. The store was full of clothes and trinkets and other grown up things.  No toys in sight.  No balls. No comic books.  No food or drinks allowed.  Just waiting and keeping still and trying to be good, and all the while not tapping or banging on anything.  Tommy began to imagine himself at home in the back yard.  He could see himself looking for sticks among the tree branches, and holding them and banging them on the trees and the fences.  He saw himself in the laundry room tapping his hands on the washing machine and feeling the cool metal on this hands and the vibration in his fingers. Imagining himself somewhere other than in the store helped to pass the time.  He pushed his hands in his pockets to keep them still, and tapped his foot softly as he trudged behind his mother.  Before he knew it, he was following her out the door.

 

“Tommy, you were so good today, I have a big surprise for you.”  He looked up to see his mom smiling at him.  He imagined a big ice cream cone, three scoops high with rainbow sprinkles.  Or a giant root beer float with whipped cream and a cherry on top. Or a row of chocolate truffles with creamy centers that melt in your mouth.  But his mom didn’t stop at the ice cream store, the soda fountain or the candy store.  Instead, she led him right into another store, a music store.

 

 

Tommy stood in the doorway and looked around.  To his right were piano keyboards sitting on stands, black and white keys like zebra stripes.  The wall was covered in guitars, some finished in sparkling red and black.  Shiny silver and gold trumpets hung on another wall, and bags, cases and speakers littered the floor.  Everywhere there were sounds-twangs from guitars, scales from pianos, and the loud vibration of an electric bass.  Tommy walked through this musical jungle with his mother to the back of the store and down a flight of stairs.  On the floor were stacks of drums, one of top of another, like nesting cups.  They came in every color, sparkling and glistening like rainbows.  His mother handed him a pair of long wooded sticks.  The tips were shaven down, and there was a small plastic tip on the end.

“What are these?” Tommy asked.

“Those are drumsticks.  Why don’t you sit down on that drum set over there and try them out?” his mom said.

Tommy walked over the giant green drum set in front of him, and took a seat on the stool.  He looked around at the instrument in front of him.  It had so many pieces, and there were shiny cymbals that glistened in the light.  He looked over at his mother.

“Mom?  Am I allowed to bang?”

She smiled.  “Yes, sweety.  Your allowed to bang on this.”

 

So Tommy raised a stick, and slowly dropped it on one of the drums.  BOOM.  Tommy’s heart began to race with excitement.  He raised his stick again, and hit a little harder.  BAM.  This sounded so good to Tommy’s ears.  He needed to do it some more.  He raised both the sticks this time and started to use them both.  BANG.  BOP.  BOOM.  CLINK.  CLANK.

           

            Tommy was in his own world, having the time of his life.  He didn’t even notice the crowd of people in the music store that slowly started gathering around him.  They stared at him in amazement, with smiles on their faces.  Some of them were cheering him on by clapping and shouting.  The cheering only encouraged Tommy more, so he starting playing louder and faster.  They said things like, “Who is that kid?” and “Wow, he’s nothing short of amazing!”

 

 

 

            When Tommy finally stopped, the people cheering loud, and some of them came over to him wanting to shake his hand.  Eventually the people cleared out, and Tommy could see his mother, smiling back at him.  “I’m so proud of you honey,” she said.  “How about we buy you a drum set?”

            Tommy nodded his head and ran over to his mom to give her a big hug.