Step Away From the Guitar

Sunday was a great day. It was a particularly great day for our kids. We trekked into Manhattan so that my daughter and I could see a play (Wicked) and while we were tucked away in the Gershwin Theater being entertained, my husband took my son to Manny’s Music. I have never been there, but my son worships Manny’s. It is apparently a very generously stocked musical instrument emporium, where they will let professional musicians, adorable 12 year old moppets and unwashed miscreants alike handle a $4000 custom Les Paul guitar. A musical democracy, if you will. When our young progeny walked in and asked the feet on the counter part time sales person cum full time guitar god to play said guitar, he looked at him slightly askance and reluctantly obliged. He then ran Joey down a litany of don’ts and tentatively plugged ‘er in. Once Joey shot off a couple of songs and a few reasonably competent riffs, Mr. Guitargodsalesperson came back with a different attitude. What started as a cautious, keep your sticky cotton candy hands off the glittering ax attitude became an interactive and free flowing conversation about guitars and music, with requisite tips and tricks thrown in for free. I guess they get a lot of pie-eyed Guitar Hero players that want to touch the real thing, so I understand the hesitance. Dave and Joey spent the entire three hours of the play at Manny’s, with Joey making his way through every guitar room in the place, touching and playing as many guitars, both acoustic and electric as he could get his hands on. Somehow this “just browsing” event turned into a “we’ll take one” purchase. By the time Dave picked up Sophia and I on 51st Street, Joey was the proud owner of the sweet black Fender Strat pictured above. Of course, it came with the usual "This is an early birthday present, don’t expect anything else, don’t ask for anything from now until forever" admonishments from Dave and I. And of course, I hope like hell that we stick to it.

Editor's note: (yeah, that's me. I am my own editor, for what it's worth) My husband read this post this morning and started raving that the way it reads, people will think we bought Joey a $4000 guitar. To which I cleverly replied "nuh-uh". However, to make him sleep easier, I am here to say that this guitar cost NOWHERENEAR $4000. ITISNOT custom like the Les Paul he tried and WEARENOT either wealthy or totally indulgent parents. There.