Do you suffer from a syndrome? Think before you answer.
How about the not-in-my-backyard syndrome? It’s doesn’t describe a medical condition (first definition) but rather refers to a “characteristic combination of opinion, emotions or behavior.” Some syndromes acquire acronyms. Group therapy comes next. My syndrome is called GAS. I need therapy. Maybe you’ve got it too and don’t know it. I’ll spell it out later. Yep, when lots of people similarly suffer from holding an opinion, experiencing an emotion or exhibiting a behavior, it’s a syndrome. After all, “syn” means together, as in synagogue. (Or as in the three synoptic gospels if you’re not Jewish.)
Drome? Let’s check.
PAUSE. “Drome” means something that proceeds in a certain way. Makes sense.Take your bicycle to a velodrome. You’ll see all cyclists going the same direction. You should, too.
Originally, drome meant simply “to run.” Then, it somehow got tainted by “syn.” (Pun unintentional.)
We digress.
Back to GAS. Originally, I thought it meant “get another saxophone.” Here’s why.
There’s a group called Sax on the Web. I belong. Members kept confessing to buying saxophones they didn’t need. They blamed GAS.
Finally, someone wrote it out. GAS stands for “gear acquisition syndrome.”
GAS affects all sorts of people. Guitarists are highly susceptible. And homemakers, too. (Oops! That out-ofvogue term typed itself.)
If you think you need a better garlic press, fancier cake pan or an onion peeler to cook better, you probably are affected by GAS.
Men tend to be especially vulnerable. What stereotypical guy doesn’t need a better tool to fix that engine or build that whatever?
Visual artists also fit the bill. They keep buying expensive portfolios to hold watercolors or etchings or drawings they probably won’t be able to sell for enough to pay for the portfolio. I belong to that ilk. Incidentally, I once worked at Dixie Art Supply in New Orleans. I witnessed the portfolio phenomenon firsthand and understood.
As a one-sax woman, I long remained GAS-free, saxophone- wise. My mother’s 1923 C-melody sufficed. My downfall? A pawned 1970s Bundy alto sax. Then, one more pawned 1970s Bundy alto. Both bargains. Who needs two? Then, along came a pawned 1923 Holton alto, silver and brass. Had to have it!
Happily, there’s Bill, one of those sax techs who can’t resist pouring blood, sweat and tears into getting a vintage instrument back into good playing condition. In his honor, I’m dubbing his condition the Bill syndrome. He’s got it bad, and I’m glad.
And what about both musicians and fans who can’t resist live music jams? Codependency at its best. Syndromes feeding off each other.
Anyway, I inaugurated the Holton at the weekly jam at Warren, Okla. Nobody threw tomatoes. (There weren’t any.)
Closing thoughts. If you see a tenor sax in a pawn shop, don’t tell me. If you’re stricken by a syndrome, give it a name if it needs one. Stick with it. It could be just the license you need to enjoy life to an absurd extreme.
A former reporter for “The Childress Index,” Hanaba Munn Welch was inspired to name her column for historic Engine 501 and to sum up her weekly thoughts in exactly 501 words and dashes. Farm life often inspires her writing. Sometimes, she even writes about trains.