Tales of Tuesday just popped in my head one day. The idea is to have a day when we write prose, what is happening in our day or stories of old, or prompt imaginary stories. Hope you all join in too...
Today we are writing about music...OURS IS...
Sometimes I feel like I fell out of the womb singing. Music has been a very big part of my life for as long as I can remember, giving way to many of the reasons I have the need to write poetry. Every day I wake to a song in my head, this morning's song is Love is Alive by The Judd's, and it stays with me all day long.
There are many times that, when hearing a song for the first time, I can sing the chorus along with the singer and remember it the next time I hear it. I guess it is just in my blood.
When I was very young I talked my Mom into buying me my first guitar and I learned to love music even more. I got a few free lessons too which were very eye-opening, for my young hands didn't seem to have what it took it master my new friend the guitar. I'm not sure why the lessons ended, but I do remember my guitar being used as a weapon against me when Mom went into one of her rages... the guitar didn't make it. I was devastated ! I truly felt like Mom took away my best friend and it took years for me to pick up another one. So instead I wrote, in secret, so that no one could hurt me with my poems. It was my Grand that saw me writing one day, on her back patio in my little note book, she waited until I came back into the house and asked me to share it with her. I remember not wanting to, but she put all my fears aside with praise and helped me grow into a better writer.
Years later I signed up to be in the school band, hoping that I could be one of the guitarists, little did I know they didn't have a guitar section in our school, so I was chosen to play the trumpet. It was wonderful ! I LOVED IT !! Playing the scales everyday was so much fun for me, learning the school song, playing with the others in the band, made me come alive musically in that year. At least I thought I was good, but alas, I wasn't, the trumpet wasn't the best instrument for me, and I was cut from the band.
So again I went into a writing phase, many more years went by and I found myself in Yuma Arizona, married to a man that was a cheater and very abusive, so I ran from him and moved to Phoenix, with a new job and a new dime store guitar. I wrote a lot of poems then too, but this time I also wrote my own music to them, with the help of one of my co-workers. It was as if I found myself again, the songs I wrote flowed easily and I learned much from my co-worker who played everyday with me and helped me in ways that I still have with me today. The tragic part of this is that my husband came for me and convienced me to go back to Yuma with him. My heart melted that he looked for and found me, and he seemed to really have changed. Yeah right ! That only lasted for a few months, which ended in him burning everything I owned, including all my writings and my beloved guitar. Needless to say I was once again heartbroken, it took me many years and countless tears to get over that, but all of those days are behind me now.
A few months ago, I found a guitar at a yard sale, not much to look at, but I thought it was worth the 15 dollars they were asking for it, so I bought it. It was like heaven to me to pick and strum again. Playing the few cords I know and the one song I remember most of the cords to ( Lonely people by America ) I was the happiest girl around, I had a guitar again. I found a web site that I can re-learn all that I have forgotten and play as much as I can everyday. Now I can play Leaving on a jet plane, and I'm learning to change cords smoothly, something I have a hard time with since I have two metal braces and all those pens in my arm. It's like I never played before, but I wouldn't have it any other way. My fingers are numb, my strumming is off and I feel like I am not worthy at times, but then I realize how much I truly enjoy the whole process.
Now here is the stunning part... We have a neighbor who is by all rights a real guitar man. His name is Mark. He has been playing guitar since he was a very young man and has more knowledge than I can wrap my head around. I was so happy at my 15 dollar guitar and showed it off like it was the sh*t... That is when Mark went into action. He secretly found a mission that he was headlong into for the next few months, and a few days ago he walked up with the most beautiful guitar and gave it to me. With tears streaming I picked her up for the first time and played... (here I am crying again... tee hee hee...) What a beauty ! What a wonderful gift ! Mark told me all he wanted is for me to have a guitar that I will have for the rest of my life, he said the better the guitar the easier it is to learn, man is he ever right ! The music I play on her is like nothing I have ever played before, only making me long to play more.