Man playing saxophone

  I am a middle-aged woman in her forties. Ten years ago, I taught Chinese at a private university in the San Francisco Bay Area. There is a large park in front of our school, and there is a lake in it. In autumn, the garden is full of golden colors, and the leaves are colorful when the wind blows. I just like to see the fallen leaves, as if it is the curtain call of life and the reincarnation of time. On that evening, I suddenly heard the melodious sound of saxophone music, as if water birds were sliding across the lake, and rippling on the water with the breeze, I was completely intoxicated by the wonderful scenery and music. .
  I followed the music to a Chinese man who looked a few years older than me. There were many audience members around him, a pair of old men with gray hair sitting on a bench, a woman with a golden retriever puppy, and some boys and girls who had just come out of school with schoolbags. Stop and listen. Since this time, I have deliberately paid attention to this Chinese man who plays the saxophone. Every evening his music rings like a pendulum by the lake. After the song was finished, he stopped his hand to press the key, and stared at the lake that was dyed crimson by the sunset, thinking a little, as if it was a memory of a beautiful past, or a dream-like raving about the past and present. I stood silently, my long loose hair fluttering in the wind, like a silent call.
  He finally noticed me, and suddenly smiled at me and said in Chinese, “Hello! My name is Qiangba.” I was a little overjoyed and replied, “You play really well!” He said, “Thank you! I liked music since I was a child. My life would be meaningless without music.” I didn’t know how to answer him, and just as I was mulling over the words, a bearded man approached. He said in English that he liked to play the saxophone, and used to be the saxophonist in the military school band. He took the saxophone from Jamba’s hand, tried the sound, and blew a few times. After finding the feeling, he played “Going Home”.
  There is something real coming straight from the song “Going Home”. It is beautiful, delicate, and has an uncluttered hyperspace three-dimensionality. In particular, the percussion of heavy metals such as Sha drums and golden hammers is delicate and rigid, melodious and extended, an infinitely beautiful reverie and yearning, which makes me feel as if I have returned to a distant hometown. I was so immersed in the music that I didn’t recover. After the bearded man thanked Jamba, I left in a hurry.
  ”You like music too?” Jamba asked me.
  I nodded noncommittally, pointed my hand and said, “I’m a Chinese teacher at that university.” Jamba said “oh”, “I live near here, and every day I come here to practice, I will always encounter all kinds of things. One time I was playing the saxophone, and suddenly there was a roar from the other side of the lake: ‘You babble here every day, disturbing other people’s rest.’ A tramp in rags, holding an old wine bottle in his right hand, drunk The ground rushed towards me, looking like he was going to smash someone. When I saw something was wrong, I quickly ran with the saxophone, and ran to the house panting, and found that I had left the piano case on the park bench in the rush. , I turned around, the tramp was gone, and the piano case was gone. However, a year later, the piano case miraculously appeared in its original place, with a note attached: ‘If you go your own way, you will be murdered Duoji Shao.'” After Qiangba finished speaking, he laughed: “This is simply inexplicable, incredible!”
  I quickly became friends with Qiangba, and took out the violin that I hadn’t played for many years to practice. It was as if I had found a musical partner. For a while, I was with him almost every day. In addition to practicing the piano, I also made friends with him in the music industry. That black Uncle Sam was a big fan of jazz, and he played the saxophone well. Every weekend, he invited jazz fans to his house to practice his skills. I didn’t want to participate, but at Jamba’s kind invitation, I took down the address of Uncle Sam’s house.
  At that time, I hadn’t bought a car yet, and when I went out, in addition to taking the bus or taking an Uber. As a woman, I try to avoid going out at night in order to avoid unexpected events. At noon on Friday, I was in the office approving homework for students. Jamba called me to go to his house after get off work and told me the exact address of his house. I checked the map, and it turned out that Jamba lived in a townhouse near my school, only a ten-minute walk from my office.
  In fact, I don’t have class every Friday afternoon. Usually, after I have finished my students’ homework, I can take the bus home. My home is not far from the school, only two stops by bus. When I received Jamba’s invitation, I suddenly felt a heartbeat. So, I went to the bathroom to wash my face, took out the eyebrow pencil, body oil, foundation cream, powder and lipstick from the drawer, and put on a light make-up in front of a small round mirror.
  A few minutes later, I rang the doorbell of Jamba’s house and waited almost holding my breath for him to open the door. He was wearing a pair of blue-faced gold velvet slippers, a pullover black hygienic shirt and jeans, and his upturned hair was dyed tan, looking fashion-forward. I thought to myself, if you can live in a townhouse in the San Francisco Bay Area, the economic conditions must be good. So what else does he do besides playing the saxophone? I am particularly interested in the details of other people, and always want to know the friends I know like the back of my hand.
  ”Come on, let me introduce you, this is my adoptive mother Alice.” Jamba said.
  I looked up, only to find an old American lady in her sixties sitting in the corner of the living room. To be precise, she was in a disabled wheelchair. Her body exudes a strong fragrance, and her lazy demeanor seems to have just woken up from a dream. She said to me in English, “Are you a teacher?” I nodded, and she said, “Teacher is good, I dreamed of being a teacher when I was a child, but fate played a big joke on me, and I could only sit in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. “The adoptive mother Alice finished, rolling her wheelchair to the study.
  I don’t know why Jamba called me to see his adoptive mother. Could it be that he took me as his girlfriend? I suddenly blushed and my ears warmed. It wasn’t that I didn’t talk about a boyfriend, but it made it clear that we were a couple. At least in my eyes, my adoptive mother, Alice, thought so. However, for me, having one more boyfriend is just one more number, it will not hurt my bones, let alone marry him. I became his girlfriend so inexplicably, as if the rice was cooked with raw rice, and our adoptive mother Alice was our witness.
  As a girlfriend, I really want to do something for Jamba. I propose to set up an orchestra, and the name is Huniu Band, because I belong to the tiger and he belongs to the ox, and the combination is Huniu, which is a good and well-known name. He expressed his approval, and we hit it off like this, and did a publicity advertisement. As a result, many musicians came to sign up, including saxophone, jazz drum, trumpet, flute, recorder, oboe, as well as piano, violin, etc. Even black Uncle Sam and the bearded man who played “Going Home” also came to sign up. Participated, which greatly exceeded our expectations.
  Later, our Tiger Bull Band often performed in bars in the San Francisco Bay Area, and also performed in San Francisco, New York, Washington and other places during important festivals. The Tiger Bull Band became famous for a while, which made me quite proud. As a result, I have met a lot of music lovers. However, the story of the band will be discussed later. At this moment, I would like to tell you the details of Jamba’s life. Born in Lhasa, Tibet, he was brought to America by his distant relatives at the age of thirteen and entered into Alice’s father’s garment factory.
  One day two years later, Alice came to the garment workshop with her father, and saw the boy named Andochamba. She walked over with ugly steps, and saw that he was holding eyebrow clippers in his right hand. , straighten the collar of the clothes with the left hand and press it under the sewing needle, and “Longlong” steps on the pedal of the sewing machine a few times to sew the collar to the clothes. Alice was amazed at how agile his little hands were, and even his dirty fingernails seemed to have a rhythm and charm.