is a pretty price for Ma ‘n’ Pa.
“Happy Birthday, Jim” –
the shiniest guitar he ever saw.
The action was lowered perfectly,
the sound rang beautifully
under rough, laboring hands
that picked out melodies speedily.
Nearly 45 years have passed,
but the spruce and mahogany last.
Eyeing the strings: five sons and one daughter
from across the room – the die is cast.
Each time it’s a waiting game;
who will first cave to the flame
of heritage brought to life in song
and eagerly urge us all to do the same?
We’ll sit around our parents’ living room,
ceasing time, but we cannot cease the boom
of cajon and strum of ukulele
- sounds with a presence that looms
along with raised voices
singing, as we siblings do.
My poem collection wouldn't be complete without the theme of music. My dad was in a band in high school, and we children always wondered how our lives would be different if he had chosen to pursue his dreams of being on the Grand Ole Opry instead of settling down and becoming a Charleston fireman. Although music may not be a professional part of our lives, it's one of the most constant social parts. Any time the Robinson familiy gets together, we remember how much music is a part of our lives. All nine of us are able to at least sing, and instruments range from guitar, to ukulele, to drums, to piano, to saxophone, to banjo. No matter how far we drift apart, we can always reconnect in song.
ReplyDeleteI took this picture when I was first teaching myself to play guitar. It actually is the guitar mentioned in the story, and it has the nicest tone of any guitar I've ever played. The six of us siblings who play guitar always joke that we never want to play a different acoustic because the experience pales in comparison. The picture has been edited using PicsArt.
ReplyDeleteAwe 😍
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