Dad's Guitar: Learning The Stories Of A Man's Life Though His Music

Each person has a lifetime of stories to share. Asit for hours at a time. Then for a long time his
a child of divorce, I got to know my father whenheart wasn't in it and the guitar gathered the dust
I was 16. That was the summer he shared hisof loneliness.Cancer came into his life and the
love of guitar and music with me: I heard theguitar was summned to duty again, it was his life
stories of his wonderful, musical life.I spent manyjacket. He played his music on good days and the
evenings listening to dad play, the music he wroteguitar waited when he was too weak. Last
and the pieces that had inspired him, stories of hisSeptember it was displayed beside a wreath of
musical past spinning in the air like sparks from aflowers and my father's ashes. It returned to its
campfire. We talked music theory like it wascase and wasn't played since.As I grieve from
tabloid gossip and we made music together untillosing my father, I am consoled by the stories
the sun was long past set and our fingers wereother people have about my father. My mother
worn.There were some stories I never learnedrecently shared her story from a time when she
and I suppose he always thought there'd be timeand he were first married and before I was born.
to eventually share all the details that made hisShe described how he sat cross-legged and
past up.I sometimes wonder what interested himhunched over in their tiny apartment, leaning into
in guitar and how old he was when he firsthis guitar and strumming softly. Mom says he
strummed the strings: E A D G B E. I suppose healways had a distant look of concentration as he
learned it from his mother when he could barelyplayed his way through a song, like a scientist
speak, as she herself played. There are oldbent over a microscope working things out. I
recordings with the children strumming vaguelyknow that face.That is how I remember him
familiar German folk songs, singing words I don'tbest, playing his music.Losing my father made me
understand.I frequently imagine my teenagedaware that every family has a thousand stories
father at the end of a line, flanked by his sixbursting to shared. It was time for me to share
younger siblings lined up tallest to smallest, all ofmy father's stories with my four-year-old son,
them dressed in clothes made from drapes. I'veRyan. Time for him to understand our love for
added the dramatic climax where he decided tomusic and why I wept at night.It was like the
leave the family production, making a symbollicguitar was waiting for me this whole time, hoping
and shocking leap from "The Sound ofI would pluck its heavy strings and pull out the
Music" to "A Hard Day'snotes that were my father's life. I picked it up
Night."Dad did share the story of the time inand held it close; so much heavier than my hollow
his life when he discovered the raw sounds of thelittle violin. Large fingerprints on the varnish that
Beatles and Led Zeppelin in the 60's andwon't be imprinted ever again, a scent of
abandoned his classical studies. Around that timecigarette smoke in the leather strap. I fumbled
he left home and met my mother. He grew hisover a few chords I learned from watching him
hair out and learned the chords to songs thatplay so many summers ago.Ryan watched
made his parents' toes curl. He must havemesmerized, a familiar intensity filled his eyes and
mellowed with age, because I "methe understood what I was sharing with him. His
him" again he had returned to his classicalsweet, compassionate voice swept away my pain
roots.Dad always had a quirky dream to play anas he asked gently "can I play Grandpa's
electric guitar with a large classical width neck, aguitar, please?"**Rhiannon Schmitt (nee
Frankenstein of an instrument that would mergeNachbaur) is a professional violinist and music
his love of classical and classic rock. So for twoteacher who has enjoyed creative writing for
years he and I watched a luthier turn a shapelessyears. She writes for two Canadian publications
chunk of wood into a stunning instrument. Myand Australia's "Music Teacher Magazine.
father loved that guitar like a soulmate and played