In the last two historical articles, No.’s54 and 55, I shared how I’d spent my first two teenage years, ages 13 and 14, in Deerfield flat on my back in a body cast to correct a spinal problem. I was in recovery mode through most of my 15th year, and developed a great interest in guitars and girls. In that order, I might add.
My Dad had an old acoustic Gibson guitar he kept in the closet behind the suitcases. One night, I dug it out and asked him to teach me how to play it. He’d been working hard in our machine shop all day, and at the time, was relaxing in his favorite recliner chair reading the newspaper. His response to my request was to lower the newspaper, look at me briefly and say: “Your hands aren’t big enough yet.”
He had used that excuse several times already, and I was beginning to get frustrated. Especially, since a new fellow my age, Richard S., had recently started Pompano High School in my class and had performed for our assembly program at high school by playing the guitar. His hands didn’t seem to be any larger than mine, and he could really play that guitar and sing. The girls were always very friendly to him, which I admit made me a little envious.
I had also become enamored by one particular girl in the class behind ours. She was just the right height for me, had medium length bright blond hair, a good figure and a great smile. I’d spoken to her a few times and knew she lived in Lighthouse Point and was allowed to date. Her name was Gail, she was gorgeous, and was always nice to me when we chatted. I had dreams of taking her out on a date as soon as I turned 16 and got my driver’s license.
That day finally arrived. I passed the test for my driver’s license the first time, got permission from my parents to use their car on Saturday night, and waited around the school hallway on Tuesday where I knew Gail would be walking. Sure enough, she was right on schedule as I sauntered up next to her and blurted out, “I got my driver’s license yesterday and my parents said I can use their car Saturday night. Would you like to go to a movie?” She hesitated for a moment. It seemed like forever. Finally, she said slowly, “OK. What time?”I told her 6:30, and when she agreed, I just wanted to give her a big hug. But knew I shouldn’t, at least not yet!
Wednesday and Thursday were wonderful days. Friday was, too, up until my last class, when I got out and I saw Gail waiting for me with a serious look on her face. I went to her and said: “What’s up?” She said, “I can’t go out with you tomorrow night!” Thinking maybe she was sick or something I said, “I’m sorry. Are you OK?” Without any expression or apology she simply said, “Oh, Richard S. invited me out, and I’d rather go out with him.” I felt like someone had slugged me in the stomach. I said, “Why would you rather go out with Richard than with me?” She immediately replied, “Richard plays the guitar and sings.”
I was not a happy camper. So that night, when Dad gave me his standard excuse for not teaching me the guitar, I did not quit. I told him what had happened at school that day and insisted he teach me “Now! Tonight.” So, he did. He sat with me that night and explained that most songs can be played on a guitar by using only three chords in a progression. However a few songs only use two chords. Since I was just beginning, he taught me the same two-chord song he had learned as his first song – “Birmingham Jail.” It’s played using only the chords “D” and “A7.” By the time I went to bed that night, I had mastered those two chords and that song. Within a month, I’d mastered several more chords and many more songs. I never did have a date with Gail. But I never lost out on another girl I was interested in dating to someone who could outplay me on a guitar either.
In the last two historical articles, No.’s