Fifty-Two
Friday Nights
About
the Author
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Ike wasn’t much of a coffee
drinker. Joe had noticed this because, any time it was his turn to rinse
and wash the coffee mugs after a practice session, there was always a
syrup of undissolved sugar in the bottom of the kid’s mug. So, as he sat
opposite Ike this evening, he suppressed a smile when he noticed that Ike
hardly even cringed any more as he sipped on his mug between exercises.
Joe kinda suspected that the kid
enjoyed the sort of “ritual” that Joe made of their practice sessions
together – always the coffee, always the same chairs, and always
starting their routine with Ike playing scales as Joe accompanied him with
chords. Ike was getting so fluid with these exercises, and Joe had
developed them in such a way that they actually seemed rather musical.
Joe found himself constantly amazed
by Ike’s progress. The kid was obviously devoting much time and effort
in the learning, but it seemed as though it may go deeper than that. It
seemed as though the music was rapidly filling a “void” in Ike’s
life – and the effects of the music seemed to be spilling over into
Ike’s personality.
Ike replaced his coffee mug on the
table and readied his hands on the guitar strings for the next exercise,
but, as Joe started the count and the first chord or two, Ike merely put
his right hand flat across the strings. His eyes moved from those strings
to some place in the space between him and Joe.
“....know what happened today?”
Ike said after a brief pause during which his eyes moved up from that
space to meet Joe’s.
Joe by then had stopped playing too
and wordlessly responded in that comfortable way friends do. “I’m
listening” his eyes said.
Ike took his time, picked up his
guitar and, in a way that was sort of hugging the guitar – lower bout on
his lap, soundhole facing inward. Ike rested a closed hand on the upper
bout, and with his thumb sort of strumming the day’s growth of beard, he
inclined his head ‘til it rested beside the guitar’s neck. He was
settling in to tell his story.
“You know I’ve had some
difficult times with my Dad?” he started. “I mean.......y’know,
being asked to leave his house and all. I mean, we get along well enough
as we work together but it’s just not the same as before........before I
screwed up. Well, earlier today I took my guitar with me when I went to
visit the family. I wanted to show my younger brother and sister what I
was learning."
"....y’know, they thought it
was pretty cool.” He added with a satisfied grin.
“Well, anyway, we were in the
family room and I was playing some of the songs you taught me. After a
while Dad sorta.....well, he came out of his office and he.....he looked
kinda surprised. I hadn’t told him I was learning to play -- like I
said, we talk mostly business these days. Pretty soon he gets up and walks
back to the office right in the middle of a song I’m playing. I gotta
tell you, my heart kinda sunk right there – I mean, I thought he was
interested and......” Ike said with the memory drawing one corner of his
mouth down into a frown of disappointment.
But that look of hurt just as
quickly dissolved into a smile as Ike continued “He came back out of his
office, and he brought a couple of harmonicas with him......Jeez, I
didn’t know he could play.....well, I guess I should say, I forgot
that he ever played. I mean, I must have been a little kid when I last
heard him pick up those harmonicas. Funny, I remember laying in bed as a
kid.......he had this one that came in a cardboard case with a green
mountain printed on it, called an “Echo Harp”....and I’d just lay
there and keep my ear to the door. I’d never fall asleep until he
quit. I loved that sound. And Dad wasn’t half bad now as I’m
remembering. But I guess I forgot.”
He continued, “Dad asked me to
start over on that Eagle’s tune you taught me? “Peaceful Easy Feelin’”?.....anyway,
I started playing and Dad just joined right in –-- man, it sounded like
we’d played like that forever! Y’know? I
mean.........god.......music............”
Ike trailed off in reverie before
continuing. “Anyway, we played for over an hour – it was cool. Dad
would play old tunes like “Oh Susannah”, y’know, real simple stuff,
but I was amazed! I could kinda follow along – the chords just seemed
right and, I don’t know, I just knew the next chord most of the time. I
could tell Dad was enjoying it just as much as me.”
Ike paused and leaned back in his
chair a bit. He looked at his guitar standing there in his lap as though
this object itself had administered the magic that he was remembering
occurring with his Dad.
After the pause, and a sip of the
coffee –-- this time Ike sourly looked at the coffee mug as if to say,
“well...why did I just do that?!” --– but he continued, “Dad
talked to me a while after we played. He told me he thought it was great
that I’d taken up the guitar. He was really complimentary and stuff.”
He paused again for a second or two, and then, ”He also said he’d
really noticed a change in me. ......said he didn’t really know what it
was, just that he noticed me more.....uh.....settled. Kinda
focused. Then he asked me if I felt l had a better handle on my life.”
At this Ike shifted again, and
looking Joe right in the eye, said. “This is the first time in my life
– and I know, before you laugh, I’m not that old – but it’s
the first time I’ve felt a.....I dunno....a compulsion ? to sink
myself into something that, as it turns out, has been good for me.
I mean, I can’t wait to practice, I love the sound, the feel, the sense
of accomplishment. I love the practice sessions with you” he added with
nary a trace of embarrassment. Thus emboldened he continued, “I feel
like I really need to thank you for showing me this new world.”
Joe felt his face warm and reached
for his coffee to fill what he was afraid was going to be a too large
space. It wasn’t necessary.
Ike quickly went on, “Y’now dad
offered me a chance to move back home. He said I had earned his trust
again and, if I would like, my room is free to move back in.”
Ike leaned over his guitar, now
back in his lap in playing position. “I told him no." he said.
But then went on, “ I mean, I
told him thanks, and that it meant a lot, but I said that I think I’m
learning to do OK on my own now. You know what he did?” Ike
asked......and then answered himself, “He just smiled.”
Joe smiled too.
...to be
continued...
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About The Author
 John Bauman is a very
talented Potter from Warsaw, Indiana. He sells his pottery at some
of the best known art shows around the country. But his creative
talent runs deep and John also writes songs and stories such as this one
to channel his creative energy.
John is a frequent and well loved
contributor to Acoustic Guitar
Magazine's "Guitar Talk"
Forum, and this story was created and posted by John piecemeal over a
period of months on that forum. It has been reproduced here in its
entirety for all to enjoy.
Hopefully, he will be so inclined to share
other stories with us in the future.
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