This current effort to learn guitar in which I am meeting with some moderate success is not my first one.
Many years ago, while I was away at my sophomore year of college, my parents moved from the town where I had grown up in Pennsylvania to Michigan. A difference of about 500 miles to the Northwest. There were no mountains, only one river (but no canoes), and worst of all no friends when I went home that summer. Well, their house was beautiful with a wonderful sunny sitting/family room looking out onto a well decorated garden. I enjoyed sitting in that room and attempting to learn guitar. Now, in that garden lived a groundhog. My father had tried everything to rid the garden of that groundhog - traps, poison, even firearms - all to no avail. So my Mom named the groundhog Penny and that was that. Penny had her run of the garden.
When I practiced the guitar that summer, Penny would come to the stoop, stand up and lean against the screen watching and listening to me play. But when I would strike a wrong chord, Penny would run for cover. The first ever rodent music critic I believe.
Later, when I was in a band playing bass, I relayed that story and we named the band "Penny's Troubadours", with our goal merely to be good enough not to scare a groundhog. We never did get any gigs, but I think we were successful in not scaring vermin.
To this day, I have a framed photo of Penny nearby when I practice.
Perhaps I should move up in biomagnitude and set my sites on acting the siren to cows (but I'm thinking beautiful Irish women would be better, eh, Old Doll?).
Last edited by Zurf (2007-09-16 15:09:29)