Skip to main content

The Kid

It's been awhile since I've blogged...mostly because I doubt anyone cares to read about my mundane existence or my less than exciting job. Really, it's boring as hell.

Anyhoo, spring has finally sprung and the weather has been decent. We, in the greater Pittsburgh area, were blessed with a beautiful weekend. While I probably should've done some yard work, I just didn't feel like it. I've got a fair bit going on in my private life that has my brain in serious need of distraction, and yard work just wasn't gonna do the trick. So today...I went to the park instead.

I tried getting ahold of a few friends to see if anyone wanted to find something interesting to do...but no one wanted to do anything, so having no qualms with flying solo, I grabbed a guitar and headed off to my favorite park. (Pittsburgh has a large number of fantastic parks!)

Just as I hoped, there were hardly any people there...just the way I like it. I swear, the older I get the less social I am. I saw a young family enjoying the day, a few cyclists, an old guy walking his dog, and that was about it. This particular park is down by the river, so it always amazes me that more folks don't use it...but seriously, it's A-OK with me that they don't. Too many people would ruin it.

I parked the car (the HHR Puff-N-Stuff), grabbed the guitar and a bottle of water and headed for the far end of the park....my favorite spot. It has a nice view of the river, one of our many bridges, boats, birds, some interesting historical markers, and lots of rocks. Nice and shady too!

I sat down on one of the rocks and just started playing. Some old country, some slide, just whatever I felt like. A handful of people walked over to listen, they seemed to enjoy themselves (not that it mattered to me, really...but it's always nice to know I still some level of skill). They were all very polite and thanked me for the music. I just smiled, nodded, and kept on playing. Finally, it was time for a change of venue.

At this end of the park is a neat old stone overlook down closer to the river. That's where I really like to go. It's quiet, secluded, and has a gorgeous view. It's peaceful. There's often graffiti and some broken glass (kids? winos? who knows!) but it never dissuades me. I just like it there...so there's where I headed.

As the weather was perfect, 74 and sunny, I took off my jacket, picked up the guitar and resumed playing and singing. I guess my voice was carrying as when I looked up the steps, I saw a handful of people had gathered, and were all seeming to enjoy the music...or the sight of some old guy acting the fool and singing old songs...either way, they applauded when I stopped for a bit to enjoy my water.

A little while after I resumed playing, a young kid and his mum came down to the overlook.  Really, I didn't want an audience...but hey, it's a public place. Nothing I can do about it. The kid, probably around 10 years old or so, had this mean, thug wannabe look on his face. He eyeballed me when he got to the landing and I gave him a "Howdy chief!". He replied with a half-hearted "Sup". His mum, just smiled, and went about ignoring the view in lieu of her phone...which was obviously more interesting than me...which again, was A-OK with me.

I just kept on playing.

The stone wall of the overlook is about 3 feet high or so, and a couple of feet thick, so the kid did what any kid his age would do...he climbed on it. He was just amusing himself, while his mum pleaded with him to be careful and not fall into the river. Mind you, it'd be a 20 or so foot fall. I wondered if my guitar would work as a short term flotation device...just in case.

Every now and then, I caught the kid checking me out. I don't think old country blues was something he was familiar with...but he seemed to be enjoying it. Like any kid his age, he was keeping himself busy climbing the stone wall along the steps while mum chattered on her phone. The kid also kept his eye on me. Did he think I was gonna bug his mum? I was too busy doing my own thing to really be bothered.

Finally, he comes back down to the overlook, sits up on the wall near me, and was seriously checking out the music I was playing. He started snapping his fingers along with the rhythm. I thought it was pretty cool. He jumped down off the wall, still snapping away, and started stomping his feet in time with the music. He was really digging it! I have to admit, it made me smile...and it made me play better. Song after song, he just got into it.

Finally, his mum decided it was time to go. She gave me a smile and tried to get junior's attention. I don't think he wanted to go...but as we all know, at that age - what mom says, goes. As he headed up the steps, he turned around, came back to me and said, "Hey Mister! Thanks for playing music!" It was the most genuine compliment I think I've ever received. His whole demeanor had changed in the short time we were in each other's company. Gone was his thuggy grimace...replaced by a more age-appropriate smile. His eyes seemed brighter. I overheard him and his mum as they walked up the steps.

Mum: You seemed to like his music.
Kid: Yeah! He was really good!

Halfway up the steps, I couldn't hear them anymore...but again, it made my day. This kid probably hasn't heard a lot of acoustic music in his life, let alone live and in person. It seemed to have a positive effect on him. Maybe it's just wishful thinking on my part...but really, I think it did.

Hey Kid! Thanks for diggin' the music! 

Comments

  1. good to hear great story it shows what music can do

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Not At MY Age! (for the nebby folks)

 This will come as no surprise to anyone - I'm not a morning person. Those of us who prefer the dark, quiet hours of the night do occasionally have to deal with the reality that there is a 5:30 in the AM as well as PM. It's an uncomfortable reality, but that's just life.  I had to deal with the AM version yesterday. Long story short, I had a doctor's appointment at 8:30, had no idea where the office was, and still had to attempt to function. My morning routine is non-negotiable. It's really the only way I can deal with most people. Yes, copious amounts of coffee are involved.  I had a check-up last week. My regular doc (I call him "Doogie" but I'm not convinced he fully understands the reference), who is younger than some shoes I own, was concerned about a growth on my nose. I wasn't...but I don't have the magic letters following my name, so my opinion is moot.  Let me be clear, I've dealt with this before. As cancers go, my previous bout o...

Meatball

 I was always a dog person. I grew up with dogs. Dear ol' dad was never a fan of cats. Mom loved all animals. But ours was a dog house. Plain and simple. My first experience living with a cat was thanks to a roommate. He had a 40-pound lump of feline ferocity named Meatball. When he moved in with his girlfriend, the cat was left behind, due to the girlfriend's alleged allergies. I believe the reality was more like she was allergic to the oversized beast's personality.  Meatball was just mean. Maybe that's the wrong word. In his defense, he was a foundling. My roomie worked at a pizza joint, and Meatball was found in the alley behind the place...noshing on a discarded meatball. This was the cat's preferred food.  Aside from his obesity, Meatball had ear mites or something as a kitten. His ears flopped down, not unlike a pig.  Just imagine a 40-pound cat, with floppy ears, and a bad disposition. Oh, he was mostly white with some black spots. On the rare occasions he w...

The Alleged Life and Times of Wynn Rainey

Inspiration can come from the most unexpected situations. - MCM Everyone in town knew Wynn Rainey, but no one really knew Wynn Rainey. Even today, in and around Downey Bluff, the Rainey name will get folks to talking. As far away as Norwich, people still remember him. Everyone has a story, and more importantly, an opinion. Depending on who you talk to, some will say Wynn Rainey was a man of means. The Wenberg family, who owned and ran the local savings and loan, did a lot of business with him, if stories are to be believed. Oddly enough, there never seemed to be an active account in his name. The same people who told these tales were the same ones who’d tell you that assets are better than cash. Wynn Rainey always seemed to have the latter. Usually at least a pocketful. Some would tell you he was loose as a goose with his money. Some would tell you he could squeeze ten cents out of a buffalo nickel’s ass. Lots of the old timers will share stories of Rainey paying everyone’s tab at...