I've Got Blisters On My Fingers!
Part Three of Buffalo and Little Bean's Big Music Adventure
My guitar teacher’s name was Mr. Jim, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t like me.
That’s not fair. He was fine, a nice young man with wide lapels and a strange, poofy sort of afro. It wasn’t that he didn’t like me; more like he knew something that my mom didn’t.
Which was that I didn’t want to learn how to play the guitar. Or any instrument actually.
By the time I was about nine, when my mom found Mr. Jim to teach me, I was deeply involved in listening to music - entranced by it - so she assumed I wanted to learn how to play it as well. And before I could somehow put into words that I didn’t, my parents had bought me my first guitar, and then Mr. Jim showed up at our door and by then it was too late
My mother even made a birthday cake for me in the shape of a guitar pretty much assuring that I’d never be able to tell her I didn’t want to learn how to play one. The cake was delicious though.
So, Mr. Jim and I went through our weekly motions and I did practice enough to learn a few tunes. I actually got pretty proficient at “Michelle” by The Beatles.
But my heart wasn’t in it, and for the life of me - even to this day - I can’t figure out why. I loved music. All sorts of music. I was obsessed with it, so much so that I took classes in college not on music theory but on music history
I loved then as I do now, the stories behind the music and the artists; their inspirations, how genres evolve and change and mix. I love how music can transcend the musician and become a separate thing for the listener. Like literature or poetry Music IS what you need or want it to be.
But I never felt, I don’t know, compelled to play it. I disliked the blisters. Reading music felt so foreign to me. I received none of the joy from playing “Michelle” as I did from listening to the song.
Fast forward to the pandemic when I had the brilliant idea that since I was home all the time with Little Bean and since she loved listening to music, that I could use the time to teach her how to play. Any of that sound familiar?
I’ll never learn.
I found a nice, not terribly expensive kid-sized guitar which Santa brought her. We already had an adult guitar in the house. I spent some time tracking down on-line tutorials because I figured this could be something we could learn to do together.
But then, after all that, I picked up my guitar and well, I just… wasn’t that interested. And she wasn’t that interested. And the guitar went up on the wall and there is rests today.
Is it about enthusiasm with kids? Passion by example? Our own interests rub off on them for a time. My own love of listening to music has certainly played a role in her musical tastes and interests. She’s not faking her excitement about going to see The Warning or Pentatonix. But it certainly must help that I’m excited about that as well.
I wonder if my mom felt some sort of parental pressure all those years ago. She sang in a choir. Her and her sisters played a bit of piano. Her son loved listening to music. Wasn’t playing it the next step?
Was I projecting onto my own kid with a thing that I felt guilty about not doing for my mom - like I failed her, but I’d make my own kid make up for that failure.
Either way, both Little Bean and myself recognized pretty quickly that - at least for the moment - music would be an an auditory passion as opposed to a tactile hobby.
I think about Mr. Jim now and again when I’m at a show or watching a musician. Eventually my parents realized I wasn’t going to be the next Gordon Lightfoot and the guitar was packed away to collect dust. My turn table never stopped spinning though and in the end, I wonder if Mr. Jim ever realized that there was one very important result that came out of my not learning how to play an instrument.
And that is, that I learned to appreciate those who can.
Tomorrow: We’ll share some exciting news regarding making contact with one of the musicians we’ll be seeing, and we’ll check in on how Little Bean’s “gifts” are coming along.
Housekeeping: Well, my friends, by the time you read this we’ll be about 48 hours away from Shipping Up (Down) to Boston to begin our journey. We hope you’ve enjoyed out little musical side trip thus far!
Do any of you know how to play music? Which instrument? Was it hard or east to learn? Why do you enjoy playing? I can’t wait to hear your thoughts!
This is Day Four by the way and you can read the prologue and day one through three in the archives.
And if you’ve enjoyed this little musical side trip, please share with band sites, or you’re own social media. We love growing our community!
Finally, if you’re new to Day By Day, you can find out more about me and my books at my bookstore here: Dan’s Bookstore.
Day By Day is a free journal of essays, expressions and story-telling, but if you’d like to buy me a cup of joe to keep me awake - much to my joy - you can do so here: Buy Dan a Cup of Coffee.
One last thing - I encourage you all to visit the bands and artists we’re writing about. Making music is hard work. Give them some love!
Horns in the air my friends, let’ go!
I, too, love listening to music and for most of my life wanted to be able to create it. In my late twenties, I had the opportunity to take piano lessons from one of my grandmother's friends. I stuck with it for a few years, practicing at home on an electric keyboard, and discovered that my brain isn't wired for moving both hands different ways at the same time. I can swiftly switch from one hand to the other, but not many songs are written that way.
those kid pix of you are priceless!