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ROCK STAR - that is what I was
I was a rock star for a full five minutes and earned money on top of it all....Hehehehehehhe
Ok I know that I do not have a musical bone in my body and the only music (or sound nearest to music) that I make is the noise that I make when I sing (or so I think). While helping my husband with his work I had to wait on a customer who wanted to pick up his children at school before going to the cricket match at Newlands (our cricket ground) to watch the Rajasthan Royals battle it out with the Kolkata Knight Riders. So there I am waiting in the vehicle, but still able to hear what is going on.
Then it struck me. Listen... can you hear that? From somewhere in the school grounds there was the curious sound of scratching. An oddly insistent, almost like a song, rising up and down the driveway where parents usually come to pick up their children. Scratch, scratch, skritch . Followed by a click, a buzz and then a scream. I just had to investigate. Ah, it is the child we came to pick up. Perched on the edge of the step, face in a grimace with a guitar cradled in his hands. The scratches, buzzed and clicks were his fingers falling over each other as he tries to clamber from one fret to the next. The scream is the child as well where he tries to take a break to wave his aching digits in the air.
Did nobody tell this child that the strings can carve little grooves into his fingertips, and that the grooves can harden into calluses, and that his nails would snag, and the joints of his fingers would be aching all over due to the stretching? But what the heck, he was in the spot light. But also when you are learning to play, you are NOT the only one who will be feeling the pain. I stood there and watched the chap for a while, my feet tapping, my head nodding, he is in the spot light now.
Slowly his strumming started chugging into shape and akin to a car being coaxed into life on a cold winter's morning, he struck a chord - ka-ching. And it chimes like a school bell. And just there I started to think back to my childhood. There were always some boys starting a band. Those years all dreamt of being the Beatles. We always happened to be running away from them, unlike the real Beatles where, I suppose; all girls would run towards them. Eight days a week was THE song. I always happily accepted the common held theory and WISDOM that there were seven days in a week, and the Beatles taught me that you cannot always believe every word that you hear even if they tell you that it is a fact. The song was an epiphany for embattled first end second graders everywhere. We always used to wing out loud (actually belted out the sounds) - Love you everyday, girl, always on my mind, one thing I can say, girl, love you all the time - At that stage a prefect would usually come out and tell us to stop making a noise. Usually it was then that the wannabe bands would try to strum their guitars as well. That ws usually the tiem that we would end up running away from the 'noise' - Really, who could sing Eight days a Week and hope to let it echo around the school ground when some silly wannabes wanted to drown out your voice with their screeches and clicks, etc.
That was then - Now this child was playing Eight Days A Week and probably does not even know, or care who Paul, John, Ringo and George were, and which one he would want to be one day. Poor child sore fingers and all
... Then I had to do it ...
I started belting out the words to the song he was trying to play. Away was the grimace, the fingers no longer hurt, we were the Beatles... for a short while at least. Some of the other parent who came to pick up their children tossed some coins in our direction. (I suppose it was to shut us up - who cares I got paid) That child was happy and so was I. If there is one thing that we can learn from children , all these decades down the line, it is this: The best thing we can teach our children, once they are familiar with the three Rs (Reading, wRiting and aRithmetic) and the days of the week and all that stuff, is to open their ears to the music that can change their lives.
Then again we do not even have to try and teach them. We just need to put the music on play, turn up the volume, and let them listen. (My children grew up with rock and alternative music , sometimes a little baroque - when my mother visits No brownie points guessing what type of music I like.)
Last edited: Wed Apr 29, 2009 2:01 pm
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Lovely story, well done to you both!
Being part of his band like that, there is no telling what kind of memories he will have when he grows up....probably all good ones tho.
Aw - you two are too kind.
Palm Tree I loved here of your day.What a story that child will tell to his children and grand children.
Oh thank you so much Glendann. I did feel pretty good after that. I suppose it is that typical euphoria that one feels when one does something one really enjoys and under those circumstances as well.
Good for you! I try not to resist the impulse to have fun and share music, memories, art,or almost anything special with a child. I know that child enjoyed the experience and will remember it for a long time!
What a well-written piece, Palmpie. I enjoyed reading it very much. I like how you write.
WHy thank you Lule1107 and thanks Sjoerd. THat is so sweet of you to say. Just as I enjoy visiting your site from time to time - you also make a great visual story.
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