My father was a musician. He played tenor saxophone in a swing band in the late 1930s and early 1940s. He loved music, especially the music of that era. I think he learned to play in high school. I'm not sure where he found the time. He had after-school jobs from the time he was about 13, working at the Farmers' Market in Rochester, New York, and helping his father deliver coal. But he learned, and he kept that saxophone even after he quit the band to make a more productive living.
My parents made sure that their children learned music. My mother never played an instrument, but she loved to sing, and would sing to us on car trips and at home when we were very young. They signed us (my sisters and me) up for piano lessons around the time we each entered first or second grade. They didn't have a lot of money then, but they must have seen musical skills as important to our happiness and success.
I enjoyed piano lessons for a while, but after four years I told my mother I wanted to quit. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I think I wanted to quit because it interfered with my television watching. (Johnny Quest was on t.v. the night I had lessons). She let me quit (I wish she hadn't), and now I wonder how my life might have been different had I grown up in the age of DVRs.
Although my piano lessons ended, my musical training continued. From fourth to sixth grade, I took saxophone lessons and played in the school band, using my father's tenor sax. Alas, my woodwind future was doomed, as I needed braces to fix an overbite, and the orthodontist said that I had to give up the reed instrument.
And so I ventured towards guitar. An avid Beatles fan, I wanted to learn guitar, and my Dad bought me an inexpensive starter guitar for Christmas one year. My cousin Tony knew how to play, and gave me a few lessons with the Mel Bay beginners guitar book to get me started. From there, I learned chords with my friend Bob, who was a few months ahead of me on the learning curve, and we continued to teach ourselves better and better ways to play. It helped greatly that we both had had piano lessons, so we knew enough about music to launch us on our way.
In 8th or 9th grade, I let it be known that I wanted a better guitar. I had my sights set on a small, used Martin guitar; I think the model was something like an F-008 (I'm probably getting that wrong). I couldn't afford it, though, and it was a lot to ask of my parents to buy it for me.
So, my Dad let me trade-in his saxophone for my longed-for guitar. Although I could no longer play the sax, he could, and we often heard him play at night from his downstairs office in our house, taking a break from his work to play some songs that he enjoyed. He gave up his music so that I could have mine, and it now makes me sad when I think of his sacrifice.
I bought the little Martin, and by my senior year in high school I traded up to a new Martin D-28 with money I had earned in part-time jobs. At the time, this was probably the best guitar any one I knew had, although in college I met a guy who had a D-35, which seemed a bit better.
Playing music remained important to me through high school, college, law school and for a few years beyond. My wife and I made sure our children learned instruments, although they have not followed up on them as much as I might like. They have found other pursuits, and there is so much more to fill our downtime in these days of connectedness that I think it takes a degree of commitment that most young people don't have to continue on in music. There is so much good music these days, though. Music that has built on the early days of rock and roll and folk, with better, more intricate guitar work, percussion, and clarity of sound.
Like my father with his saxophone, I pick up my guitar only rarely now. I have let it fade amidst our cluttered life; so much time required to do my work, manage our affairs, and simply rest at the end of a long day. And of course it just doesn't seem as important today as it was when I was young and trying to impress people, especially girls. I remember most of the songs I used to play, but never find the time to learn anything new. And my talent stopped progressing when I stopped performing. I still love to listen to music, old and new, and will even sing along with a good old song when no one is around. But as a performer, I have let music pass me by.
Tonight, as I sit alone away from my guitar, listening to some good old-fashioned blues on the radio, I feel a void that only music could fill. And I miss my Dad and the sound of his saxophone rising up through the floor boards and filling our home with love.
My parents made sure that their children learned music. My mother never played an instrument, but she loved to sing, and would sing to us on car trips and at home when we were very young. They signed us (my sisters and me) up for piano lessons around the time we each entered first or second grade. They didn't have a lot of money then, but they must have seen musical skills as important to our happiness and success.
I enjoyed piano lessons for a while, but after four years I told my mother I wanted to quit. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I think I wanted to quit because it interfered with my television watching. (Johnny Quest was on t.v. the night I had lessons). She let me quit (I wish she hadn't), and now I wonder how my life might have been different had I grown up in the age of DVRs.
Although my piano lessons ended, my musical training continued. From fourth to sixth grade, I took saxophone lessons and played in the school band, using my father's tenor sax. Alas, my woodwind future was doomed, as I needed braces to fix an overbite, and the orthodontist said that I had to give up the reed instrument.
And so I ventured towards guitar. An avid Beatles fan, I wanted to learn guitar, and my Dad bought me an inexpensive starter guitar for Christmas one year. My cousin Tony knew how to play, and gave me a few lessons with the Mel Bay beginners guitar book to get me started. From there, I learned chords with my friend Bob, who was a few months ahead of me on the learning curve, and we continued to teach ourselves better and better ways to play. It helped greatly that we both had had piano lessons, so we knew enough about music to launch us on our way.
In 8th or 9th grade, I let it be known that I wanted a better guitar. I had my sights set on a small, used Martin guitar; I think the model was something like an F-008 (I'm probably getting that wrong). I couldn't afford it, though, and it was a lot to ask of my parents to buy it for me.
So, my Dad let me trade-in his saxophone for my longed-for guitar. Although I could no longer play the sax, he could, and we often heard him play at night from his downstairs office in our house, taking a break from his work to play some songs that he enjoyed. He gave up his music so that I could have mine, and it now makes me sad when I think of his sacrifice.
I bought the little Martin, and by my senior year in high school I traded up to a new Martin D-28 with money I had earned in part-time jobs. At the time, this was probably the best guitar any one I knew had, although in college I met a guy who had a D-35, which seemed a bit better.
Playing music remained important to me through high school, college, law school and for a few years beyond. My wife and I made sure our children learned instruments, although they have not followed up on them as much as I might like. They have found other pursuits, and there is so much more to fill our downtime in these days of connectedness that I think it takes a degree of commitment that most young people don't have to continue on in music. There is so much good music these days, though. Music that has built on the early days of rock and roll and folk, with better, more intricate guitar work, percussion, and clarity of sound.
Like my father with his saxophone, I pick up my guitar only rarely now. I have let it fade amidst our cluttered life; so much time required to do my work, manage our affairs, and simply rest at the end of a long day. And of course it just doesn't seem as important today as it was when I was young and trying to impress people, especially girls. I remember most of the songs I used to play, but never find the time to learn anything new. And my talent stopped progressing when I stopped performing. I still love to listen to music, old and new, and will even sing along with a good old song when no one is around. But as a performer, I have let music pass me by.
Tonight, as I sit alone away from my guitar, listening to some good old-fashioned blues on the radio, I feel a void that only music could fill. And I miss my Dad and the sound of his saxophone rising up through the floor boards and filling our home with love.
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