Here I am looking at my guitar from the across my room. I’m sitting here just staring at the instrument. It looks like a cherry. The bottom of it reminds of one, with its stem being the neck of the guitar. Well, it’s actually just a red Fender Squire and it’s not my first guitar. My first is standing up against another wall in my room just to the right of my Squire. The body is still all shiny. It’s an old acoustic Harmony; I remember when I first got it.
You should’ve seen the look in my eyes. It was a look of surprise and excitement without a doubt but I wonder if anyone really saw my expression. Oh of course I was excited, but I was all uneasy for some reason. The box was too wide! Everyone was staring at me, my mom, dad, family, and my grandma. I was sixteen years old. My first guitar in their eyes, well it was my first guitar in mine as well.
“Ma, c’mon!” I droned as she and my grandmother spoke in the front of the car about Christmas and who is getting this and that. My grandmother was driving while talking to my mom and it was 2 months before that Christmas. I was sitting in the back, looking out the window, admiring the skyline of Brooklyn while at the same time tuning into what they were talking about. “Jonathan needs you know, a beginner’s guitar.” Yes mother I know I am a beginner but c’mon! She sometimes has the habit of speaking her mind first assuming that what she states in with no doubt in the world correct regarding my life. I was young and I didn’t know much about guitars. “Ma, those guitars are old fashion ma!” I added still looking out the window. “Beginner’s could start with an electric guitar” I droned once more. “No first start with the acoustic. There’re better for you when you first start out. Anyway it’s up to grandma she is the one who’s getting it for you.”
As I sit here remembering these things, I don’t remember ever really wanting to play the guitar, I mean I did fancy learning the electric guitar but the desire was there like some passing thought of something I would’ve liked to do someday. I did not have this passion and zeal, let alone the capacity to understand the discipline it would take to play the guitar and actually get good on it. That is why I remember specifically the manner I was responding to my mother’s comments in the car ride in Brooklyn those two months before that Christmas five years ago.
As my grandma came closer with the wider than I wanted box, I wiped the sorry look I had off my face. I was a look of disappointment, but could not be noticed by anyone nor her because it only lasted a split second right before I made the excited surprised look. Everyone was making the surprised excited sounds normally accompanied in family gatherings where someone is receiving their gift. My family would always do that especially my dad’s side of the family; it was like a New Year’s celebration every time someone opened a gift. At my mom’s side, everyone was more subdued but one could still hear the occasional festive noises. Well for some reason, I didn’t like the festive noises they were making as my grandmother placed the box over my lap while I rose somewhat in a squatting position to thank her on the cheek. My dad was standing right next to me and I knew he was the only one who knew how I felt and I knew what he was about to do next.
The box is in front of me, he needs help opening it. The box is the size of a small refrigerator. He says “Jonathan go get a knife.” Another time I went with him to Best Buy to buy some cables for the DVD player, but to open it, a sword was needed. “Jonathan go get a knife.” Once three boxes came to the house from UPS- he used to be a recording audio vendor. We brought the heavy boxed into the house and he says “Jonathan go get… I’ll go get it stay there.”
So the box is over my lap and my dad does just that, he goes and gets a knife to open the guitar that I did not want. I appreciate it, it was drastically nice of my grandmother, I love my grandma, but I wanted an electric guitar. I wanted it, my uncle played it so cool, Carlos Santana sounded so good with one and I wanted one. My dad came back with the knife and he has to tell me to open it because I grab it and pause for like ten seconds. Ten seconds! Nobody should pause for ten seconds when expected to open a grand gift in front of everyone unless to thank the person,, talk, laugh make a joke, something! I just sat there for those ten seconds with the knife in my hand. Maybe I felt like stabbing the box with the knife, maybe I did not I don’t remember. All I remember is that I sat there for ten seconds in front of everyone in there festive attitudes with my grandma smiling and my dad telling me to open the guitar I did not want.
Well it’s standing there right in front of me. It’s leaning against the wall just waiting to be picked up again. The difference between its look now to the way it looked then is that now the G string is broken and is hanging over the guitar like strand of hair out of order. Broke it two days ago. It just popped in half and flew off, haven’t gone to replace it. The body still looks like it’s intact. It’s still all shiny like when I first opened that box.
I used the knife that my dad gave me to slice the tape at the ends of the box that was keeping the darn thing in the box. I don’t think anyone noticed my ten second pause except my dad. He was just standing there over me smiling not as my grandmother smiled but he smiled like he knew that I did not like the guitar but I guess he just wanted to see me be a man and open it and love it. I was not liking his look, I think at one point I looked up at him and at that point in my life he was still like a half a head taller than me- and I think I said, “What?” in a voice that suggested some arrogant annoyance. But know one not even my grandmother knew the annoyance stemmed from my inability to love the guitar, they all knew that my father was messing with me staring at me like that. He would look back at my family and say random comments like “Oh now he is going to drive me crazy in the house with that thing.” followed by chuckles and laughter from the rest of the family. I sported a smile to be a good one and pulled that guitar right out of the box. The box fell on the floor, my dad picked it up took it away and I just stared at my first guitar for a while. Well of course after my performance. I had to give them something, you know the old excited oohs and aahs that kids supposed to do, of course I couldn’t disappoint. But I was disappointed. I was a beautiful guitar don’t get me wrong, but I just wanted an electric guitar. How would anyone hear me with this thing I asked myself? Again I did not know much of guitars at that age. Well everyone heard the first chord I played with it right there in front of everyone one. It was a horribly sounding E chord, the most famous of guitar chords and after that everyone cheered and I watched as more gifts were opened.
That was five years ago. I look at my electric guitar and I look at my acoustic and they both look the same to me now. There are both guitars, objects my hands make music with. I actually like the acoustic sounded when I first played my first chord. I got to go get the string fixed. Well I could fix it myself; I just got to get the chance to go to guitar center to get them. I learned to put them on myself after one of the guys at guitar center got tired of putting them for me “ You gotta learn to do this yourself you know, its important.” I don’t put them on perfect yet but I’m getting it. And he was right it was important. And I also love that acoustic guitar standing there, I want to play it right now actually.
The first two years learning the guitar with that acoustic of mine I’ve grown to love was harsh. It was like trying to build a snowman in the middle of below zero temperatures. I love my acoustic guitar, the guitar I think I wanted to stab, but it was a long and painful road to this love. I remember first learning to play Jingle Bells. I figured it was appropriate since it was recently Christmas and it was the first song to learn in the beginners guide to guitar that came inside the guitar case. I hated that flimsy guitar case. It was so annoying to put the guitar in it I just threw it under my bed and left it there for like eternity. Anyway I learned Jungle Bells, a simple single note at a time puny song that I learned to do with my eyes closed in like three days. But then it came, frustration and I began to abhor the guitar.
First it was my fingers; they started to hurt every time I pressed on the strings. And then after I while they didn’t hurt anymore and then my finger tips got resilient. I was then able to play the guitar a little easier. I played Jingle Bells triple fast after like a month of practice. But then it was playing chords. Chords, not single notes, chords. I just couldn’t play them correctly. Every time I tried to they sounded like crap so I stopped playing the guitar for a good two months. I started playing video games again and basketball. One day my friend came over and picked up my guitar that I had set in a corner for like two months and said, “Hey I didn’t know you had a guitar, I always wanted one of these!” and I was just about to knock him upside the head yelling “Then take it!”. But then I just grabbed it from him, and realized I could still play Jingle Bells rather well after being two months away from the guitar. Not only that, but I played the E chord perfectly the next day and then the G chord the very next. I started to like guitar right there especially my acoustic.
I got my electric about a year and a half later, and I loved it. I’ve been playing ever since and I love the guitar even more. I had to prove to my parents that I was serious about the guitar to get an electric but for some reason, not too long after I got my electric, that I also fell in love with my acoustic and played it even more. As I think about ti now I guess its because I was forced to play it more than the electric, because I usually played the electric loud with my amps overdrive turned up and my father would have episodes of brain fry madness when I played it back then. So I perfected my playing on the acoustic guitar I wanted to stab. And now I found a passion hidden in me awoken by a Christmas gift I did not want.
You should’ve seen the look in my eyes. It was a look of surprise and excitement without a doubt but I wonder if anyone really saw my expression. Oh of course I was excited, but I was all uneasy for some reason. The box was too wide! Everyone was staring at me, my mom, dad, family, and my grandma. I was sixteen years old. My first guitar in their eyes, well it was my first guitar in mine as well.
“Ma, c’mon!” I droned as she and my grandmother spoke in the front of the car about Christmas and who is getting this and that. My grandmother was driving while talking to my mom and it was 2 months before that Christmas. I was sitting in the back, looking out the window, admiring the skyline of Brooklyn while at the same time tuning into what they were talking about. “Jonathan needs you know, a beginner’s guitar.” Yes mother I know I am a beginner but c’mon! She sometimes has the habit of speaking her mind first assuming that what she states in with no doubt in the world correct regarding my life. I was young and I didn’t know much about guitars. “Ma, those guitars are old fashion ma!” I added still looking out the window. “Beginner’s could start with an electric guitar” I droned once more. “No first start with the acoustic. There’re better for you when you first start out. Anyway it’s up to grandma she is the one who’s getting it for you.”
As I sit here remembering these things, I don’t remember ever really wanting to play the guitar, I mean I did fancy learning the electric guitar but the desire was there like some passing thought of something I would’ve liked to do someday. I did not have this passion and zeal, let alone the capacity to understand the discipline it would take to play the guitar and actually get good on it. That is why I remember specifically the manner I was responding to my mother’s comments in the car ride in Brooklyn those two months before that Christmas five years ago.
As my grandma came closer with the wider than I wanted box, I wiped the sorry look I had off my face. I was a look of disappointment, but could not be noticed by anyone nor her because it only lasted a split second right before I made the excited surprised look. Everyone was making the surprised excited sounds normally accompanied in family gatherings where someone is receiving their gift. My family would always do that especially my dad’s side of the family; it was like a New Year’s celebration every time someone opened a gift. At my mom’s side, everyone was more subdued but one could still hear the occasional festive noises. Well for some reason, I didn’t like the festive noises they were making as my grandmother placed the box over my lap while I rose somewhat in a squatting position to thank her on the cheek. My dad was standing right next to me and I knew he was the only one who knew how I felt and I knew what he was about to do next.
The box is in front of me, he needs help opening it. The box is the size of a small refrigerator. He says “Jonathan go get a knife.” Another time I went with him to Best Buy to buy some cables for the DVD player, but to open it, a sword was needed. “Jonathan go get a knife.” Once three boxes came to the house from UPS- he used to be a recording audio vendor. We brought the heavy boxed into the house and he says “Jonathan go get… I’ll go get it stay there.”
So the box is over my lap and my dad does just that, he goes and gets a knife to open the guitar that I did not want. I appreciate it, it was drastically nice of my grandmother, I love my grandma, but I wanted an electric guitar. I wanted it, my uncle played it so cool, Carlos Santana sounded so good with one and I wanted one. My dad came back with the knife and he has to tell me to open it because I grab it and pause for like ten seconds. Ten seconds! Nobody should pause for ten seconds when expected to open a grand gift in front of everyone unless to thank the person,, talk, laugh make a joke, something! I just sat there for those ten seconds with the knife in my hand. Maybe I felt like stabbing the box with the knife, maybe I did not I don’t remember. All I remember is that I sat there for ten seconds in front of everyone in there festive attitudes with my grandma smiling and my dad telling me to open the guitar I did not want.
Well it’s standing there right in front of me. It’s leaning against the wall just waiting to be picked up again. The difference between its look now to the way it looked then is that now the G string is broken and is hanging over the guitar like strand of hair out of order. Broke it two days ago. It just popped in half and flew off, haven’t gone to replace it. The body still looks like it’s intact. It’s still all shiny like when I first opened that box.
I used the knife that my dad gave me to slice the tape at the ends of the box that was keeping the darn thing in the box. I don’t think anyone noticed my ten second pause except my dad. He was just standing there over me smiling not as my grandmother smiled but he smiled like he knew that I did not like the guitar but I guess he just wanted to see me be a man and open it and love it. I was not liking his look, I think at one point I looked up at him and at that point in my life he was still like a half a head taller than me- and I think I said, “What?” in a voice that suggested some arrogant annoyance. But know one not even my grandmother knew the annoyance stemmed from my inability to love the guitar, they all knew that my father was messing with me staring at me like that. He would look back at my family and say random comments like “Oh now he is going to drive me crazy in the house with that thing.” followed by chuckles and laughter from the rest of the family. I sported a smile to be a good one and pulled that guitar right out of the box. The box fell on the floor, my dad picked it up took it away and I just stared at my first guitar for a while. Well of course after my performance. I had to give them something, you know the old excited oohs and aahs that kids supposed to do, of course I couldn’t disappoint. But I was disappointed. I was a beautiful guitar don’t get me wrong, but I just wanted an electric guitar. How would anyone hear me with this thing I asked myself? Again I did not know much of guitars at that age. Well everyone heard the first chord I played with it right there in front of everyone one. It was a horribly sounding E chord, the most famous of guitar chords and after that everyone cheered and I watched as more gifts were opened.
That was five years ago. I look at my electric guitar and I look at my acoustic and they both look the same to me now. There are both guitars, objects my hands make music with. I actually like the acoustic sounded when I first played my first chord. I got to go get the string fixed. Well I could fix it myself; I just got to get the chance to go to guitar center to get them. I learned to put them on myself after one of the guys at guitar center got tired of putting them for me “ You gotta learn to do this yourself you know, its important.” I don’t put them on perfect yet but I’m getting it. And he was right it was important. And I also love that acoustic guitar standing there, I want to play it right now actually.
The first two years learning the guitar with that acoustic of mine I’ve grown to love was harsh. It was like trying to build a snowman in the middle of below zero temperatures. I love my acoustic guitar, the guitar I think I wanted to stab, but it was a long and painful road to this love. I remember first learning to play Jingle Bells. I figured it was appropriate since it was recently Christmas and it was the first song to learn in the beginners guide to guitar that came inside the guitar case. I hated that flimsy guitar case. It was so annoying to put the guitar in it I just threw it under my bed and left it there for like eternity. Anyway I learned Jungle Bells, a simple single note at a time puny song that I learned to do with my eyes closed in like three days. But then it came, frustration and I began to abhor the guitar.
First it was my fingers; they started to hurt every time I pressed on the strings. And then after I while they didn’t hurt anymore and then my finger tips got resilient. I was then able to play the guitar a little easier. I played Jingle Bells triple fast after like a month of practice. But then it was playing chords. Chords, not single notes, chords. I just couldn’t play them correctly. Every time I tried to they sounded like crap so I stopped playing the guitar for a good two months. I started playing video games again and basketball. One day my friend came over and picked up my guitar that I had set in a corner for like two months and said, “Hey I didn’t know you had a guitar, I always wanted one of these!” and I was just about to knock him upside the head yelling “Then take it!”. But then I just grabbed it from him, and realized I could still play Jingle Bells rather well after being two months away from the guitar. Not only that, but I played the E chord perfectly the next day and then the G chord the very next. I started to like guitar right there especially my acoustic.
I got my electric about a year and a half later, and I loved it. I’ve been playing ever since and I love the guitar even more. I had to prove to my parents that I was serious about the guitar to get an electric but for some reason, not too long after I got my electric, that I also fell in love with my acoustic and played it even more. As I think about ti now I guess its because I was forced to play it more than the electric, because I usually played the electric loud with my amps overdrive turned up and my father would have episodes of brain fry madness when I played it back then. So I perfected my playing on the acoustic guitar I wanted to stab. And now I found a passion hidden in me awoken by a Christmas gift I did not want.
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-Nick