I've written before about my attempts at playing the clarinet while I was growing up, and how I was never very good, even though I took lessons for years and occupied a chair in various school bands. It might tell you something about my skill level when I confess that one day - many years after I reached adulthood - I picked up a clarinet and tried to play. I was able to make it squeak and squawk but otherwise nothing much happened — because I'd forgotten how to read music.
I really don't remember why I took up music in the first place, but I do have a couple of ideas why my instrument ended up being the clarinet. First, my Dad had played clarinet as a boy and I think we still had his old nickel-plated antique around, which would have appealed to my parents' frugal, sensible side. I think they figured they could get me a newer model if I stuck with it — probably a wise precaution, considering my record.
Secondly, the "licorice stick" was probably chosen for me because my Dad always loved listening to clarinet music. Admittedly I never reached 
a skill level that would have been pleasant listening for anyone, even after they later bought me a new one, but I suppose he always hoped for the best. (Which might explain why my clarinet was later recycled to my little sister.)
Dad enjoyed any good clarinetist, but there was one guy he would always watch on TV whenever possible. My Dad traveled in his job, but if he was home on the evening of the Lawrence Welk Show, he'd always tune in because he thought Pete Fountain was just about the greatest thing around.
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