Learning to play

A few years ago I asked my parents for a guitar for Christmas. I missed music-- I missed playing music and singing music and I wanted to see if I could learn an instrument again. Instruments were never my strong suit-- I always had to work at it; it never came easily. First was the piano and recorder. My wonderful Auntie, for whom I was named, taught both my sister and I to play the piano. The problem was that she was so good, and I so enjoyed my lessons with her, no other teacher ever was able to hold my attention or interest... and so while I'd dabble every once in a while, I never was able to play in the way I would have loved to.

Then came the clarinet-- the instrument that I chose for junior high band because, well, to be totally honest, it was the smallest and lightest and would easily fit in my locker. I had originally wanted to play the bass in orchestra... and then the trombone. But when I was reminded that I would have to lug that thing to and from school the appeal wore off. And I settled on the clarinet. Which I loved-- and I still love to pick out the clarinet in the orchestra... the rich sound of a clarinet solo. A much overlooked instrument if I do say so myself!

In college I sang. And the instrument background did me well because I could read music and had inherited a somewhat decent ear from my talented dad (and the Benedicts in general. What can I say? Music is in the Benedict blood. I was lucky to get a little glimmer of it). While I had sung all my life, it was the first time that I really performed and was disciplined about it-- singing in a group, recording albums. And I certainly got my fill of music.

But as I got older, music and the more artistic things I loved were fewer and far between. Working for the man and being in an office offered little creative expression and I was craving some sort of outlet, if even just for me. Hence, the guitar. I tackled it with gusto-- I signed up for lessons at the Old Town School of Music in Chicago (where I was living at the time); and I faithfully trudged to class-- rain, snow, sleet or shine, every week for about a year to try to master this new instrument-- or at least to be able to pound out a few notes that formed a song. It didn't hurt that one of my favorite japanese restaurants was across the street too...).

Unfortunately-- my lack of natural talent failed me. Or perhaps it was my greater love of singing. As with most instruments that I've played, I really had to work at it. But the bigger challenge was once we started singing while playing the guitar at the same time, I'd forget about the playing and just sing. My instructor found it amusing. I found it to be vexing.

When I moved to England, the guitar came along with me. But it has mostly hung on the wall in my office as a piece of art (and collecting lots of dust...). But this week something caused me to take it down and attempt to play again. My fingers are definitely rusty-- and I need to build my callouses back up (because MAN my fingers HURT), but I'm liking playing again. The desire to sing is still vexing me but maybe if I stick to it I might actually be able to play this thing. Well-- I can hope.