Rockin’ Robin

It starts like everything else.  A conversation between the wife and I. An idea casually floats out there; something like, ‘I think the oldest daughter should take up guitar lessons’.  And like most things, that is the end of any real thought on the matter from me.

The wife on the other hand is a little more action oriented.  An idea in the air is something for her to make happen.  Which is why I now sit in this cramped waiting room cluttered by a dusty futon, two throw away couches and a water cooler.  The people that sit here: future head bangers, indie rock chicks, six-stringed backup singers, stoners, longhairs, bored housewives and housedad’s like myself.  (did I just refer to myself as a housedad? maybe a housedude…aw nevermind)

I give up trying to read there.  The students don’t bother me much, they are either noodling on their guitars or staring blankly into space.  The parents are a different story; small talk, awkward silences, more small talk.  The book is a good way to transition into a don’t talk to me mode.

Other than that, I find my daughter learning some of the things I did at the same place, the same way I learned how to play, maybe twenty years ago.  I learned songs that I wanted to play as opposed to learning scales or finger picking technique or theory.  It was fun, just didn’t make me a good guitar player.  The daughter on the other hand will outgrow these lessons quickly.  Natural ability coupled with her willingness to actually practice should have her at an advanced level in two years.

She’s like her mother in that way though.  An idea in the air is something for her to make happen.

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