Generational guitar dreams in Highland

By the time I was a 12-year-old sixth grader, I already had a full appreciation for Ace Frehley and a craving for my own electric guitar. A nice Gibson Les Paul Custom like the Spaceman had would have been ideal, but I would have taken just about anything.

I got nothing.

Fast-forward to the next generation’s 12-year-old sixth grader. Sometime around Thanksgiving, I was doing something not memorable enough to include here when the next-gen wandered downstairs into the family room. Slung from his neck was a black Stratocaster knockoff.

“Whose is this?” he asked about the instrument buried in an upstairs closet, gathering dust from years of neglect.

’Twas mine, I told him, prompting inevitable follow-up questions – most notably, “Why do you have it?” and “Can I try it?”

Because I always wanted one and my parents apparently thought a set of drums was the lesser of two evils. And sure, why not.

In his first couple of months as a viola player – fulfilling Highland Schools’ music requirement – he seemed to be catching on quickly. Maybe lightning could strike twice.

His first noodling sounded about like you’d expect. Not like music. Much like how my parents once described everything Ace Frehley ever did.

It didn’t take long before “electric guitar” and “guitar lessons” were the top two items on his Christmas list. My immediate thought was simple: give him mine, add the lessons and, if he’s any good, he can get his own later.

But this is Gen A we’re talking about. If he was going to become a “Juke Box Hero” one day, he’d need more than a beat-up six-string from a secondhand store.

Like me, he didn’t know how to play it, but he knew for sure that one guitar felt good in his hands.

So a brand-new one would feel even better, right?

Knowing how little I know about guitars, I visited a couple of shops and asked questions about humbuckers and single-coil pickups. I still know nothing.

Then I asked the lad what kind of guitar he might want if he got one for Christmas. Proving some of my lectures stick, he replied, “What kind does David Gilmour play?”

Over the years, my guitar heroes have changed a bit. There’s a reason we’ve had dogs named Floyd and Gilmour, and we’ve already floated “Strat” as a name for a future pup.

“Glad you asked, son. David Gilmour primarily plays Stratocasters and is most famous for his black one. The one you found in the closet looks similar, but it probably won’t fetch $4 million at a charity auction.”

Not needing to be a two–Black Strat household, my research led to a Squier Stratocaster in cobalt blue with a humbucker pickup and tremolo bar. It came with a case, a small amp and a few picks – everything you need.

A few lessons in, he can already belt out “Slow Ride,” “Smoke on the Water,” “American Idiot” and a couple of others. The pentatonic scales can wait.

I have no idea where this will lead, but it’s been a joy to see his joy. Sometimes we have to live a little vicariously, especially when it’s his idea.

Besides, even if the new guitar ends up back in a closet, he can keep it his whole life if he wants. And who knows? Maybe the next 12-year-old will dig that one out someday.

And it might just change everything.