I first picked up the acoustic guitar when I was still in high school. Two and a half chords later the swift winds of adolescence had borne me on to the next thing, but the seed had been planted.
Janelley became the proud owner of a nice guitar well before we were married, and there it sat through a series of living rooms in northeast Minneapolis. The elephant in the room, the meat in my molars, the languishing item at the bottom of my lifetime to-do list.
“Dude, do you play?” first time visitors would often ask, “What songs do you know?” No, and none. Until last fall.
The seed was watered on a lakeside summer evening when my father-in-law showed me a few chords and encouraged me to start playing. Nobody warned me about the pain involved in learning the guitar. My left hand and fingers protested, but I played through the pain and before a month had passed I was able to sing and play at the same time without setting off neighborhood dogs.
Now, nine months later, my gestating talent is about to be born on stage in the form of an open mic night performance at the Red Raven Espresso Parlor.
Despite my experience with public speaking as a wedding officiant and a small town childhood including numerous performances as a singer, I am nervous. My act of calculated bravery has involved attending several open mic nights as a spectator, and I have found the performers to be a group of talented if inexperienced musicians. Wish me luck!