I was 8 years old when I started taking guitar lessons. I had been asking for lessons for at least a year before that but my mother didn't give in until she was convinced I was serious about it. I'm not sure what finally convinced her but she found a teacher for me and I took private lessons for 8 years. In my more dramatic moments, I am convinced that music saved me. Not only was I able to pour all of my emotion and confusion and fear into writing and playing but my teacher was a consistent, calm presence in my life. In my less dramatic moments, I am simply thankful that I have a party trick.
A couple years ago, Miguel asked to learn the guitar and we bought him a guitar and I gave him a few lessons but it became clear pretty quickly that he wasn't going to stick with it. I suppose this is why my mom waited until she was sure that I would.
Zeca started asking for guitar lessons when she was 6 but we waited until late this past Spring before we arranged lessons for her. She is 7, a year younger than I was when I started, and I can already see how much it means to her to create something of her own with music. I hope that she continues to play and hope that it will provide her with the same solace and joy that it has always given me.
Tonight, we attended her first recital. She was the youngest student and the only one to play an original piece. You can't see her very well in the video but you can hear her. So, this is Zeca playing "Rain in June":