Postcards from the Funny Farm

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It’s the 4th of July and as always: guests are coming over. Before I unloaded/loaded the dishwasher and shocked the pool, I picked up my weapon against the cleaning blues: My Martin triple-o.

Whatever situation I find myself in … the guitar saves me in relaxing the room. Example: kids in my class are out of sorts and chatting constantly. Unable to focus and get the situation under control, I pick up the guitar, which silences many, and start to count: one … two … three … you can hear a pin drop on carpet. A scene not even the best digital cameras can capture … you have to be there.

I then strum out Woody Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land” and every kid sings along. That song really tells a powerful story. I tell you I have been teaching for 10 years and working with kids for at least 20. The guitar never fails. It’s like a semi-automatic weapon against chaos in tha classroom. But this morning I used it a different way.

Sauntering over with sleep still in my eyes, I sat on the kids’ toybox and started flecking the strings with my pick. Paul McCartney’s almost now obscure “My Love” came into my head, a song I taught myself years ago. “My love does it goooooood.” My 3 year old started twirling in front of me as I continued strumming and faking the lyrics. Reminiscent of another time undefined, another place.

I went on to place a few other Beatles songs and ended with the “Gidget” reminiscent “Wipeout” instrmental. Rippin’ it up still at 39. When I came out of the guitar zone, I unloaded and loaded the dishwasher, fed the dog, and shocked the pool. I hear the pump outside filtering the water for our guests at 2pm. I smile to myself at an idea only I will probably “get.” Then I come here to blog it for the archive. Maybe somebody will get it out there, Chris or somebody. Happy 4th readers of mine. (afterthought: this post should serve to remind us players that only we can teach the youth of today to appreciate the guitar)