Ladies beware… of those musical motives.

(written 2/1/12)

Here I sit, on Charlee’s bed, listening to her practice her piano.  The window next to me is open, though the shade is closed to block glaring sunlight.  She is scanning her sheet music – attempting to read the chords and play them smoothly.  A more difficult task than the usual single notes. 

Alex is in the driveway – his, to all intents and purposes, personal skatepark – with a hoard of boys.  There are several new voices in addition to the usual crowd.  I didn’t pay it much mind.  I have to say, I am impressed by the skateboarding community.  Time after time they have proven to be an upstanding group.  (At least my son’s… {brag, brag, brag ;)}  So removed from the derelict persona too often labeled with.  My favorite trait, hands down, is the camaraderie.  They support each other every step of the way… or maybe I should say, every attempted step.  Following each kick-flip and ollie – and whatever other trick they were trying to tackle – rose a cheer.  As soon as the clunk of those four wheels hit the payment, a unified group would hoot and holler, either for a trick well landed or a bail that served to entertain.   

Charlee continued to practice.  I was bookended between my children’s activities.  Kinda cute for a moment… a perfect Mommy zone.   Until I keyed into one of those new voices coming from the driveway.  (Let’s call him Trent.)  

He was offering up ‘words of wisdom,’ “No really!  You really have to learn how to play the guitar!”  My ears perked up.  I love to play the guitar, actually I wish I played it much better. “You don’t understand.”  Hmmm?  I was curious, what don’t they understand about the ‘importance’ of playing a guitar? “Girls just love guys that play the guitar!”  I had to chuckle at his ambitious presumptuousness.  He implored his audience to heed his words, “No really!  They fall all over you… sooooo easy.”  (Okay, now I was getting a little personally insulted.)  The rest of the guys were laughing a bit uncomfortably at the claims, and his dogged insistence.  At this point, I was paying more attention to their conversation than Charlee’s piano, which prompted her to stop and try to listen to what Mommy was so intent on.  I was transfixed, trying to decipher the notion that my gender could put me – or my fellow females – at risk of being swooned by a guitar wielding wizard. 

Charlee, though only nine, was equally baffled by the claim.  I shook my head and laughed, caving into the comedy of his words and her face.  We both agreed that the claim was misguided, or at the very least overzealous for an instruments capabilities… or so we were hoping… 

The sad reality is that there are a lot of people that swoon to musical prowess – hence groupies.  Many a cobra have fallen for the snake charmer’s flute.  Nevertheless, I was glad for the uneasy and uncomfortable reactions of the boys, especially my son’s.  (Thankfully, they did not seem to be on board with Trent’s theory.)

No matter the objections, Trent continued with relentless persistence.  I listened, resisting the urge to interject, lest my son disown me… Nothing worse than a meddling mother.

The limits pushed too far, the moment – in all seriousness – I heard these words, “You get so much p*ssy when you play the guitar!  Girls throw themselves…”  Needless to say, he didn’t get to finish his sentence.  

{Sorry Alex!} 

I yanked the cord, drawing the shades up in one swift motion.  My face to the screen, “Hi” was all I could think of saying.  Trent abruptly stifled.  In fact, all of the boys stopped cold in their tracks.  All eyes were on me, glaring in sheer – red-handed – fright.   

They weren’t sure what I had heard, so they tried to continue smoothly with an alternate conversation.  I knew I had to say something, but Alex (who is all to aware of my extreme hearing) was pleading with his eyes for me not to completely embarrass him.  (Oh, what have I done?!) 

My son knew I was not able to let this go.  He knew I was going to say or do something.  The silence pause only emphasized… at any moment now – it was going to be anything goes.  He shook his head in humorous, yet pitiful, resolved sorrow for Trent.

Seconds felt painfully long – the the boys stirred uncomfortably, staring at the ground.  I broke the silence with the only word that came to mind, “Trent?” 

Unsure of what exactly I overheard, he quickly sat on the bench – his back rigid, his hands pressing on his thighs.  Saucer eyeballs stared at the screened window, clearly readying for an uncomfortable reprimand, or worse – execution“Yes?” – adjusting to sit even straighter.  I paused, determined not to scare anyone off, “I play the guitar.”    He acknowledged, nodding his head fervently.  Pausing again – desperately thinking of what to say… and then the words just came, “and I never found that it got me more p*ssy.”

The driveway erupted with laughter, no more strained statuesque poses.  Trent turned 50 shades of red. (Somewhat fitting, given the topic matter… ;))  Alex shook his head, comically relieved that wit was going to be my choice of leveler. 

Trent covered his face in his hands, but a red glow still seemed to radiate from behind his fingers.  “I’m not mad.  Really it’s okay… just tone it down, please.  My daughter is right here practicing her piano.   I get that it’s not the almighty guitar, but I still want her to learn.  Aside from that my neighbors don’t need to hear all this…. ”  {Seriously, kid… I may never be able to practice my guitar again.}   He shook his head vigorously agreeing and apologizing. “I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!!” – outstretched hands implored forgiveness.  

The boys, most of who already knew me and my ‘odd’ humor, were still howling.  

I lowered the blinds, mostly for their sake.  Charlee went back to practicing.  Chuckling at what just happened, I was thankful that I didn’t fully embarrass my son… parenting is hard enough when you’re ‘on their side.’  Alienating the ones you love the most is such an awful feeling.  

In no time, the boys were back to their ‘normal, comfortable’ conversation.  Charlee was back to practicing.  

This story could have ended right here… but apparently Trent couldn’t help himself.  I don’t remember what the next actual sentence was, but it included the unmissable word ‘f*ck.’  (Let’s be straight, this is not the first time any of us have heard the word – nor do I intend to be a hypocrite, as there have been many times that this has been my choice word… but not the way he was using it…  there was no doubt his topic matter…)

I pulled the window-shade up just in time to see him streak – in full foot stomping force – down our driveway.  He didn’t look when he ran across the street, nor look back at his friends.  (Thank God there were no cars!!)  He sure missed out on some priceless facial expressions from his friends.  First there was shock, then realization, then rolling hysteria.  (Poor kid.  I dare say, he will never live it down.)  

Alex had no sympathy, he knew that if Trent continued talking like this, I was going to call him out – comically, but nevertheless, call him out.  He chided Trent to man-up, through side splitting laugher – and when he ran, he clamored after him, “You’re such an ass.”  I don’t think Trent heard anything beyond the wind whipping past his ears, or the sound of his feet pounding the pavement? 

I had met Trent only one time before.  He actually sat in my living-room playing – of all things – the guitar.  I will say, he has an amazing talent – amazing!  He has earned bragging rights.  Thinking back to that day, I’d have to agree, I was somewhat spellbound by his gift, especially given his young age.  That said, (you will be happy and relieved to know) I did not find myself falling under his spell, waving my underwear… (I made my fellow ladies proud. 😉  

We have not seen Trent in our living-room or driveway since.  Alex insists, while laughing, “He won’t.  Trent is not a skateboarder.”  (Can you hear my motherly sigh of validated relief?  Buy that kid a skateboard – he needs to work off some pent-up tensions. LOL) 

In all seriousness, he is more than welcome!  I truly am not upset.  Of course, I would like him to have realistic notions, and be honorable with his guitar wielding super-powers – but hey… on the positive side, he certainly has found an incentive to practice and hone his musical skills.  I wonder if his parents are aware of what music lessons have brought to their son?  At least they’re getting their money’s worth.  (That is… until a Trent Jr. arrives…)

Just think about all the men of yesteryears and what they could have saved by just investing in a guitar… and maybe a few lessons… who knew?!   It would have been the downfall of Red Light districts everywhere.  

I am starting to wonder about my own guitar lessons… maybe there are key components I am missing?  Surely they are worth more than I realize. 😉

2 comments on “Ladies beware… of those musical motives.

  1. Maggie Mae

    I don’t know about guitars but I have to admit that 20 years ago, after avoiding then literally ignoring a boy for more than several months, I finally took notice when he flawlessly donned a tuxedo and just as flawlessly played the Wedding March on his VIOLIN at our mutual friends’ wedding! Five years later he was my husband… so…

    1. Nancy

      That’s too funny!! (Good thing there was no tuxedo – maybe that’s what kept Charlee and I safe – lol) ~ N

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