Father & Daughter Jam

I once jokingly referred to my daughter as my guitar protege but that no longer applies. On some levels she's surpassed me.

She signed up for a guitar class at her high school this semester and told her teacher she wanted to do it so she could exceed her father's playing. You can imagine how extremely gratified I was to be such a source of inspiration, even if she just wanted to embarrass me.

But I'm not embarrassed, of course. Just proud of her. So far she's mostly doing single-note picking, which comes fairly easy to her because she knows how to read music after several years of chorus. (Reading music is another thing she can do that I can't, along with speaking Spanish fluently and earning a second-degree black belt in tae kwan do.)

She's finding chords a little trickier, partly due to having small hands, and has yet to get past the my-fingers-hurt-too-much barrier.

The class sounds pretty good; perhaps I should audit it. She's learned some scales (and taught me one), a little Spanish number, a blues progression and done a little coffee house-style jam based on a blues scale. On the side, she taught herself that Celine Dion song from "Titanic" just for fun.

Sometimes we get our guitars out and she shows me what she's learned lately. Mild jamming ensues, followed by a paternal smile.

She's not sure how far she wants to go with the guitar but with this quick start, I have to invoke Satchel Paige's maxim about not looking over my shoulder because someone is surely gaining on me. I'm also afraid to look ahead because she may already be out in front.