My Guitar Hero

Jacob always wanted a guitar. He and some friends even discussed starting a band last year, and asked my permission to use our basement for their practices. Jacob received his coveted guitar for Christmas, and for months he proceeded to drive us (particularly Adam) crazy with his untrained, off-key strumming of the instrument. His favorite tune to “play” was a grating – and loud – version of something that resembled 1977’s “Black Betty.” Over and over and over again. In March, I signed him up for three guitar lessons at our local community center, hoping that he would at least learn to pluck some basic notes. On the night of Jacob’s first lesson it was snowing, so he wrapped his guitar in a giant beach towel to keep it dry. Everyone else in the class showed up with fancy guitar cases to protect their instruments. Awkward. Jake also brought along his new guitar pick. (Yes, the same pick that was responsible for my knuckle stitches!) Evidently, it was quite unlike the picks belonging to the other students. Who knew there were different types of guitar picks? Strike two. The teacher attempted to show Jacob some simple chords and finger placement. He didn’t enjoy any of it, and, in fact, when he returned home he proclaimed that he hated playing the guitar and did not want to take any more lessons. Much to Jacob’s delight, the class the following week was cancelled due to the instructor’s absence. The third class came and went with everyone at our house completely forgetting that Tuesday evening was guitar lesson night. So, learning to play the guitar ended up being a bit of a washout for Jacob. I guess we will just have to put up with his “bam-a-lamming” until he gets bored with his guitar and stashes it away somewhere. Or until it mysteriously vanishes. Whatever comes first.