As i set here, enduring insomnia, looking at my blank tv(forgot to pay the man lol ), I cant help but think about how this time of year is hard for me. Not only because Im a bonefied Scrooge, void of the Christmas spirit, but because it makes me reflect on the year and ultimately life. We were never rich growing up, but I never new it. I had all of the spoiled bratty-ness and entitlement of a MTVs Sweet 16 princess. This took its toll on my young parents, and though Im sure it added to the stress of having kids before a career, it always worked in my favor. Soon the stress of a bad marriage did its magic, and I became that ever so common child of divorce. I didnt care, mom had a good job. I could play her guilt and milk that golden ticket for every last nugget of want. That is, until the gravy train was outsourced, leaving my trusted conductor laid off and strapped for cash. Did I let up the pressure? Not a chance! Christmas was coming, I needed to make my list and check it twice. I didnt have time for the burdens of my mother, I needed to make sure my first electric guitar was plastered all over that list. You see, mom had already gotten me a Jr. Sized nylon string acoustic 4 years earlier. I never played it, but a shiny new electric would be the ticket I needed to start playing(yea right.) Christmas came. I hurried through all of the little gifts until I got to the traditional Big gift. I dont remember what pattern the wrapping paper was, but it was baby blue. It was about a 1 x 2 box. It smelt of warm fresh wrapping paper and tape, I could tell mom took her time wrapping this one. It had to be an amp! By the way I tore into the box, youd think I was starving and found a stash of cheerios. All was a blur. A white box with a picture of a black speaker. Oh mom you shouldnt have. Wait, whats this? A karaoke machine?! Ungrateful tears start pouring down my face. Now the stocking full of cassette tapes made sense. I angrily took it to the other room and proceeded to shove a tape in it the wrong way breaking it. I never heard that machine. With a look I could only describe as hurt mixed with anger, sprinkled with disappointment, my mom loaded us up in the car to see if we could get it replaced. The cashier told my mom there were none in stock, and gave her cash back. Still hurt,but now determined to teach me a lesson, we pile back in the car. Im not for sure if it was that day or later on, but I remember going to a pawn shop with her while we waited to get our SUVs windshield replaced. I remember this trip because I found a hand carved guitar for about the same as the money I had seen the cashier give my mom. My mom, however, found an old school karaoke machine with a retro gold mic. Guess which one came home? Mom did eventually get me my first electric, but that was a year later. At that point in time I rocked a retro gold mic. Though that machine and my relationship started rocky, soon I began to see its usefulness. I picked up that jr sized nylon string and began to learn. Soon I was writing songs. I started taking the guitar everywhere. Eventually I dusted off the karaoke machine and started to record. I bought cassette tapes like I was working for Nixon. I recorded on that machine for many years, clear up until the electronic gods called it to heaven. I tell this story at least once a year, but its still the backbone of who I am. Mom didnt just give me material possessions, time and time again, but she gave me an outlet. I had always been musical but could never harness it until that karaoke machine. About a week ago she asked me what I wanted. I have no list. I have no want. Its corny and cliche, but she really gave me the biggest most priceless gift. Music is everything for me, and ever since then Ive tried to document and record everything I can. Thank you, mom.
Posted on: Fri, 19 Dec 2014 11:42:45 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015