My First Guitar

When I received my first guitar, I finally found something that I could excel with.

I suppose that for the first decade of my conscious life, I merely observed other people do things that they truly enjoyed. My poor vision and depth perception made catching a football or baseball a terrifying ordeal, much to the annoyance of my older brother. My lack of enthusiasm for hunting and fishing puzzled my father. My inclination toward music, but lack of motivation to practice piano perplexed my mother, and frustrated my piano instructors-Yvonne Clinkscales and Pam Roberts. When I received my first guitar, I finally found something that I could excel with.

After two years of playing the broom, I signed up for guitar class at school which finally convinced my parents to buy me a guitar. My Dad told Mom to drive me to Mars Music in Homewood, AL, which was about the same as driving to Mars itself as far as I knew. 

“What kind of guitar are you looking for?” Mom asked as we sat in the stand still traffic on 280.

“Electric.” I said. This would be like asking a child what flavor ice cream they wanted and getting the response, “Red.”

I was completely unfamiliar with the details of guitars, but that didn’t matter. By some miracle, I had convinced my parents to purchase me a guitar and we were on our way to do just that. The people at Mars would know all about guitars.

We got to Mars Music despite the traffic. I had never been in a music store before, and I was mesmerized. As we walked through the door it was like walking into a concert through backstage. The lights were dim in the building save for spotlights on a floor to ceiling wall full of guitars. There was a new exciting smell of fog machines and rented sound equipment. I walked over to the guitar wall and just stared. Now I knew how my brother felt when we went to the sporting goods store and he would just stare at the hunting rifles. This was where I belonged, and I didn’t want to let this feeling go away.

I was still standing there when mom walked up behind me with a sales associate.

“So y’all are looking for a guitar?” He asked. 

“Electric.” I said, still looking at the wall of shiny guitars.

“Let me show you what I recommend for beginners.” He walked us over to the starter packs and point out the Squier Strat. We looked at it. 

“This is everything you need. Rock’n Roll in a box.” He said cheerfully. 

We dug the guitar out of the box and I gave it a couple awkward strums. It felt right in my hands. 

I still had to learn to play it, but having that guitar was a turning point in my life. It did wonders for my self esteem. Until my parents bought me a guitar, I had never really fit anything else I had tried. It took them going out of their way to help me find my way. After all these years, I still have that same guitar. I leave it out in the living room so my son can pick it up and play whenever he feels like it. It would be nice to see him learn how to play, but I’m ok if he doesn’t. I hope that I can find where he fits, even if it means taking him to someone who can steer him in the right direction.