Last year, I had a logowear company make me some hats with my own logo. I figured, why advertise for other people for free? Why not advertise for me? Have fun with my own logo?
Last week, I lost it. I think it may have come off my cane (to which I thought I had securely attached it) when I was walking from a restaurant to the Apple store. And no, I'm not blaming this one on Steve Jobs, don't jump the gun on me, dear reader.
So, the hat with which I proudly proclaimed "Robert Parker Music," just kinda... fell off. And disappeared.
It has been thus with my compositional life. I used to have one, and sure, I can still do arrangements, but really "I'm proud of this one" compositions, big things for band or orchestra (whether I have a live group to play them or they'll just be rendered by my built-in electronic symphony), I'm not writing them any more. It's like my muse, or whatever it was that gave me the energy to do this stuff and whispered the music into my ear so I could write it down, just... fell off and disappeared.
Yeah, I have a spare hat. It's in a box in the garage. But I haven't gone out to get it, yet, because... well, the music of Robert Parker seems to have ... fallen off and disappeared.
Now, I suppose, if I were looking for symbolism, one could say that going into the garage and getting the spare hat, and putting it on and wearing it proudly, would be an act that reclaims what was lost--sure, it's not exactly the same, but it's new, and maybe "something new" is precisely what's waiting for me in the wings.
Or, one could say that what's lost is lost, and the "spare" is a poor replacement for the glory that is now gone forever.
Or, then again... sometimes a hat is just a hat.