In alt.home.repair, on Tue, 01 Jun 2021 12:33:13 -0500, Jim Joyce
wrote:

One of my uncles played trumpet in his high school band. When he died, his
trumpet came to stay at our house for a time, where each of us kids picked
it up and tried to 'play it'. We could each make noise with it, but we
quickly had a beet red face and had to put it down to catch our breath.

Maybe it's meant to teach humility.

The trumpet disappeared pretty quickly, which I now assume was just Mom's
way of saying she was tired of the noise. That was ~40 years before Google
and we didn't have anyone to show us how to play it.