I rarely get very personal here or in anything I write. A small digression into the personal is, I believe, allowed from time to very long time.

As a little brother all my life, I’ve looked up (quite literally) to my older brother, Charlie. He’s a tuba player. As a child, I thought that was the neatest thing. In a way, I still do. Charlie’s tuba still haunts me, even though it’s been a while since I’ve heard him play. I can’t hear certain pieces of the orchestral repertoire without humming the tuba part, since I heard Charlie practice it for hours on end. It’s not uncommon that I catch myself humming the tuba parts to Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg, The Planets, or other fun ditties. Doubtless being subjected to such things from my youth explains something of my personal boisterousness, which religious life has (I hope) tempered somewhat.

As Charlie’s little brother, it was appropriate that, when I got musical myself, I would play the euphonium, which is probably easiest explained as a “little tuba.”

My euphonium mostly collects dust, but Charlie “made it” in the musical world, and I’m glad for him. So, even though I’m all grown up, I’ll do the little brother thing that used to drive my friends crazy. I’ll brag. You can find my big brother here:

Charlie’s wife, Marianne, is a flute player. And in case you’re wondering what happens when a flute player marries a tuba player, my niece turned out to be a violinist. Go figure.


Charles Villarrubia and his tuba