Sometimes I think back to the days when I first started taking guitar lessons. It was early 1997 and I was nine years old, obsessed with hovercrafts, and single-handedly building a multi-level treehouse in my back yard with no parental supervision. Later that summer I even built a zipline made from a waterskiing rope and and old rusty pipe. It worked pretty well until the rope snapped and I broke my arm in two places.

A few months before I broke my arm, my parents sat me down and said “You need to learn an instrument. Pick one and we’ll get you lessons.” I had no interest in learning an instrument. I had a Gameboy and an NES with Super Mario Bros. 3 and Duck Hunt. I also had a Redline BMX bike with pegs on the front AND rear wheels. Between that and the treehouse, I was set.

It didn’t take long for me to decide. I chose guitar because I was ten and there was one in the house already. Also because I liked the Beatles. Also because what kind of nine-year old weighs the pros and cons of things before making a big life decision? I had no idea how important guitar would become to me

I started taking lessons from this grey-haired, smoke-smelling, cranky old man at the local music store. He had me pick a book from the shelf to learn songs from. I picked a Beatles book and he basically just dragged me through every song. I don’t remember being taught, I just remember being told to try to play stuff.

I vaguely remember those days because, well, that was more than 20 years ago. But I do remember hating guitar lessons. He did not inspire me. He didn’t even make eye contact with me. The most fun I had at the time was when some random dude in the music store showed me how to play “Smoke on the Water” and “Louie Louie” while I was waiting for my lesson.

Breaking my arm was a good excuse to not practice for six to eight weeks while my ulna and radius fused back together in a yellow elbow cast. 

When I was finally healed, my parents said “Ok. Time to start lessons again.”

My next teacher was Mrs. Kelley. She was maybe 50 years old and a good mix of stern and energetic about teaching. She had stacks of sheet music laying around that had been photocopied a couple hundred times. I suspect she kept losing the original handwritten copy and just kept making copies from copies for like 30 years.

She thought she was teaching me to read music, but I was actually just watching her hands and copying her. There was a lot of copying going on. It took her a while to realize that I wasn’t looking at the sheet music.

I learned a lot of valuable things from her - how to (eventually) read music , how to strum, hold a pick, play classical style, etc. She helped me develop crucial skills but I still didn’t really feel inspired to practice.

My grandfather (the guy in the photo at the beginning of this post) heard I was taking guitar lessons and showed me a few songs by Chet Atkins. I listened and thought “those three guitar players sound pretty good.” He then explained that it was just one person. I was blown away. If you’re not familiar with Chet Atkins, here is a little video of him playing bass, melody and rhythm all at the same time.

Earlier artists had pioneered this style but I didn’t find out about them for many years. A few particularly notable pioneers would be Mississippi John Hurt and Elizabeth Cotton - she played this style but upside down, playing left-handed on a right-handed guitar.

I felt inspired to learn tunes by other artists in similar styles. I was a dorky 12 year old when I got the guitar bug and I got it bad. All this acoustic guitar music was like crack to me and I just started practicing like crazy. Hours and hours a day.

By the time I was 14, I had a neat little hour of instrumental fingerpicking tunes that I would play at farmers markets on the weekend for tips. I was so into it that my dad actually took me on a trip to Nashville to a little convention called The Chet Atkins Appreciation Society. Seriously.

Oh, and if its not obvious by now: Yes, I was definitely homeschooled.

As time when on, my interest in learning instrumental guitar tunes faded. I started getting into music that people my age liked. I took up electric guitar and started figuring out how to write my own songs. I got into bands that were on the radio. But I credit my Opa with introducing me to the artist and style of music that first got me excited about playing guitar, and I still have a soft spot for the style of music where I cut my teeth.

In 2008 my Opa passed away. His whole famliy knew he loved Chet Atkins, so I played Mister Sandman at his funeral.

A few summers ago I was thinking about how he used to stop by our house every Tuesday in his Green Plymouth Voyager with blue sheepskin seatcovers, probably on his way home from the gym or the swimming pool. Most people didn’t have cell phones back then so if we were out when he stopped by, he would hang a little bag of Mr. Goodbars and fun-size Snickers on our door knob. If we were home, he would have a cup of coffee with my mom and chat with us kids about what we were studying.

While I was thinking back to those days, I got the urge to write some music and this little tune just kind of fell out of me. I think he would have really liked it.

Part of why I love teaching guitar lessons is this: you never know what will inspire someone to start practicing up a storm. You never know what song, concept, technique or style will hit you and take you away into music land.

My passion it helping my students find that thing that will set them off on their own personal journey of musical inspiration. I love to give people permission to explore and celebrate their unique goals and interests because thats the stuff that keeps people playing guitar forever.