Guitar

I took guitar lessons in the 4th grade. The Macedon Elementary music teacher (I have long forgotten her name) offered them for something like $3 per student per half hour. There were a bunch of kids who attended these group lessons after school in the basement of a church across the street. I don’t precisely recall how I ended up with a guitar – I assume my parents purchased one for me. I remember my dad had one, though he didn’t play, and I fiddled with it often enough so it seems he invested in one for me plus lessons.

Apart from occasional seasons of not having a guitar, I kept playing and singing and still do to this day. Plus, I can still remember some of the songs I learned in those lessons decades ago. I never learned how to read music, which is something I regret. Nevertheless, it gives me great pleasure to play and I’m glad I learned.

Some of the songs we were taught were doggone religious. I do not know what prompted the guitar teacher to pick those songs, but I remember Rita & I (Rita learned how to play, as well, though I do not recall who taught her; could have been me, I dunno) singing songs that described Christ's coming to earth, living, dying, and resurrecting. Stuff I just sang back then but gave no specific thought to. I like to think that a seed was planted that would not bear fruit, metaphorically speaking, until many years later when I came to understand the significance of the lyrics and believed the message.