My Son is Cooler Than Yours
My son is amazingly cool.
(Note: this is a reprint of a letter I sent a friend of our family, they have no sons.)
It is true, this is probably something that most parents will tell you.
But in this case, things are extraordinary, because Isaac really is pretty damn cool.
Isaac just turned four years old. He has been a fan of The Who since he was about 2 and a half years of age. I think that things came to a head when we drove to the Apple WWDC ’06 conference in San Francisco. In order to appease our son we had to play Magic Bus roughly ten or fifteen times a day.
At home Isaac will beg primarily to listen to two songs; Magic Bus and his grandfather John Hartin’s cover of Johnny Cash’s Folsom Prison Blues. Isaac likes me to pull up the cover art to The Kids Are Alright when we listen to Magic Bus and makes me point out and name John, Keith, Roger, and Pete.
Isaac is a musical boy.
His grandfather John Hartin is a legendary country guitarist and the founder of the South Plains College Music department. The mayor of Levelland, Texas recently proclaimed “John Hartin Appreciation Day,” and my wife, Isaac, and I came to be proud participants in the event.
My own father, Jeff, started playing gigs as a jazz drummer at age 14 and had retired by the time he was 20. His father, George Pasco, was a jazz piano player of some repute in western Washington.
My mom’s family tended towards music in more of a Methodist, play-piano-for-the-church-or-at-home-with-the-family-but-don’t-look-like-you’re-enjoying-yourself way, but they also encouraged musical pursuits. As long as you didn’t appear to be enjoying yourself or dancing, anyway.
Grandpa Hartin got Isaac his first guitar (a student’s acoustic) when he was about six months old. Isaac loves it, and also has a drum kit from my dad, and the Morgan family upright piano that my maternal grandmother pushed out of a burning house under the protests of everyone around her.
This year for Christmas my brother-in-law Chet asked me what Grandpa Hartin should get me. I fretted for a bit, but what the hell. John owns a music store. “I’d like a Pig Nose. Do you think he can swing it?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, “I’ll bet he’d like getting that for you.”
A pig nose, for the unwashed heathen amongst you, is a fairly well known electric guitar amplifier that probably pumps out all of about 5 watts RMS. If you ever see Crossroads (the movie starring Steve Vai with a bit part by Ralph Maccio, not that fool movie with Britney Spears) you’ll see that “lightning boy” plays through a Pig Nose through a few different parts of the movie.
So I got a Pig Nose for Christmas from my father in law.
This is, with out a doubt, the coolest Christmas present I’ve gotten in a long while. My Mesa Boogie Mark III Simulcast head needs new tubes, and I left my speaker cabinet in Colorado with some friends, intending to replace it with something cooler. I’ve been without electric guitar amplification for about seven years now.
So, once the dust had settled on Christmas morning I took Isaac aside and asked him to come upstairs with me. We went up, and I plugged in the Pig Nose.
The Who Guitar
Then I took out my 1967 Gibson SG, and plugged it in.
“What’s THAT?” said Isaac, his eyes huge.
“This,” I said happily, “is papa’s Who guitar.”
Isaac didn’t miss a trick. “Like The Who? Like Magic Bus?” he said excitedly.
“Yes,” I said. “The Who. Just like Magic Bus.”
It became clear that this was about the coolest thing Isaac had ever heard of. He was also thrilled to find out that a guitar could be plugged in (he’s fascinated with electricity).
I ended up plugging guitar for about half an hour, doodling or playing rhythm parts to “Won’t get fooled again” and other classic songs while he danced exuberantly with me.
My son is four. He likes The Who, and electric guitars, and has long hair. He jams with bands like Earl Greyhound and meets them for lunch.
My son Isaac is cool. And I love him.