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Wondering Today

I was just wondering today about those days when we were sensitive to communities. When black cops were assigned duties in black neighborhoods. I felt the power of having my adversary in a helping mode when my mother died. She had a stroke and the only people there to help me were right wing nuts. I got no support from my left wing friends. There were no hippies around, no Rainbows.

Yesterday I considered that my parents were at heart divorced. That was their truth.

After mom died I found notes and such that told me mom and dad weren’t married when they had their first son. That’s why he had mom’s name from her first marriage. She hadn’t married dad. Dad had not married her. I saw a note, not a formal city hall thing, that said mom and dad had gotten married in 1952, a year before my birth. What a strange relationship.

There were other notes, the veracity of which were dubious. One said mom had graduated from NYU . I suppose if they had had the aid in her day that they do today she might have. She didn’t drink or smoke or take drugs so she figures to be the type that would graduate.

I once studied some drumming. I had a little rubber thing that I practiced drumming on. Long after the drum classes had ended I noticed you could write on it with a pen. I wrote some fantasy about becoming a great guitarist on it. It was kind of sad and lonely and it was found, as well, to my embarrassment. I had taken guitar lessons for many years and got nowhere. It actually fell apart right at the beginning when I told my guitar instructor I had practiced for one hour. He got very upset about this. One hour for a whole week is not enough he declared in contempt. I was just a 9 year old at the time, I think though it seems in my mind I was younger. I had practiced for one hour a day. We never got over that.

I adored Elvis and the Beatles had even come along. I wanted to learn rock and roll guitar and these fellows who were Italian, taught old style guitar. The proprietor opened up a ristorante nearby and had an orchestra there. Orchestra wasn’t me. I suffered for 3 years. Mom spent 3,000 dollars, ostensibly on the electric guitar the teachers sold us. I was too young to talk ripoff but it may have been. You had to get credits based on the hours you practices which you offered to the teacher at the beginning of each lesson. So many credits and you won something. The thing was a rubber/plastic head sculpture of one of the great composers, i.e. Brahms, Beethoven. Brahms was the first and I lied sufficiently to earn the credits to get it.

Those lessons may have really obstructed important matters at school. I also played Little League baseball which took me away from study. I never had a science project at school. I’ve mentioned before I never memorized the elements. I wanted to be the rock star though and look how wrong it went.

My friend and I finally sold that guitar on Ebay after mom died for $100.

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