Friday evening the jazz quartet had a gig at a local veteran's hospital -- it's something we started doing a couple years ago and now it's kinda like a paid rehearsal. We had a busy week otherwise, playing at the casino etc. so this little 1-hour shot is a piece of cake, right? The drummer -- an honorable older gentleman, not a neanderthal -- is driving crosstown to the gig. Quarter of the way there his car dies. Somewhat heroically he manages to get alternate transport, moving the gear to the new vehicle and abandoning the first one where it is. In the frantic course of things he leaves behind his attache containing his music and his sticks and brushes. He discovers this 10 minutes before we hit. Is bummed out but is going to play the gig conga style. Sax player and bandleader -- never one to give up too easily -- decides there's no harm in asking a hospital staff person if they have anything like a pair of drumsticks. Something from the kitchen, maybe. Coupla minutes later a janitor comes by with two spanking new toilet brushes and a big grin. Howard took those brushes and played a dynamite hour of music. The band played as well or better than it ever has.