I've always wanted to learn how to play the guitar.
My very first album was the BTO album with "Takin' Care of Business" on it, and from there I was hooked. I wanted to play like them.
Of course, other bands came along- with equally good guitarists.
Santana.
Pre-girl Fleetwood Mac with Peter Green.
ZZ Topp.
Pink Floyd.
Ted Nugent.
The list goes on...
I decided I was going to spend a good chunk of my retirement learning how.
Finally.
I was still a few years away from retirement, but I decided to start now. So I hired a teacher I found online.
His name was Anthony, but he went by Tony.
Tony was in a rock band when he was younger, dabbled a little in Bluegrass, played in a jazz quintet for a few years, and even did some classical guitar.
Like my wife, Tony was in his late fifties. He spent his time teaching guitar and, when he wasn't teaching, he was performing at a local venue. He was highly recommended as a great (and affordable) teacher, and I was looking forward to meeting him.
We set it up so he would drop by the house for a one-hour lesson every Tuesday at 5:45pm.
This worked well for us both. We always ate dinner closer to 5:00, and the 5:45 start would enable Tony to squeeze in another lesson later at 7:15pm.
The first meeting was set for this coming Tuesday.
Mary had prepared a nice dinner, and we had just cleared away the dishes when a knock came at the door.
As Mary was in the kitchen cleaning up dinner, I answered the front door.
I opened the door and was momentarily taken aback by the man standing in front of me.
Tony stood about three inches taller than me, and I was six foot three.
He was clean-shaven, including his perfectly smooth head.
His hands were huge, engulfing my own as he reached for a handshake.
"You must be Tony, I'm John."
"Hello, John. Pleased to meet you," he said with a big, friendly smile, as his huge hands firmly grasped my own.
Even though he was wearing slacks and a Polo, he filled them up so completely that I could see he worked out quite a bit.
The dude was just...big.
And he was black.
Normally I wouldn't mention this, but...well, my wife can be a little racist, or at least stereotypes people. I think she will be a little surprised to see that my new teacher isn't white.
"Come in," I invited. "I believe I have everything set up as you asked."
"Looks good. I have a book with me we can use. It'll take us through some basic chords, which will get you going with some basic songs."
Just then there was a noise from the kitchen.
"Might be someone else here, hmm?" he asked.
"That's my wife, Mary. She's cleaning up dinner. I'll introduce you in a bit."
I was dreading that...
"Let's continue," he said, and proceeded to show me fingerings for three chords: G, C and D. Tony had me count 1, 2, 3, 4. I was to strum each chord on the one count, and then count 2, 3, 4, then strum the next chord on the 1 count- repeating the process as I cycled through the chords, This wasn't terribly hard- I already knew these chords. The hard part was being ready for the next chord by the next one count. I got proficient enough that he had me stop.
"Okay, let's try a song," he said. "Do you know the song, 'Leaving on a Jet Plane', by John Denver?" he asked.
"Of course!" I said, nodding. "Who doesn't?"
"Okay, good. Here's what we'll do," he said, placing the lyrics sheet in front of me with the chord letters above the lyrics. "Since, in my experience, people don't like to sing in front of me, I'll sing, and you'll accompany me."
I must have looked concerned.
"Don't worry, you know the song- all you have to do is play one chord, one time, where it occurs in the song, so it gives you plenty of time to get the fingering right. Plus, I will be singing super-slow, so no worries, okay?"
"Okay," I said tentatively.
"Like I said, no worries. First chord is G. Get your fingers into position. Here we go...All my bags are packed..." he sang as I strummed the first chord.
He sang, I clumsily strummed. I was amazed that I was able to make the chord changes, but I was more amazed by his voice. It was almost mesmerizing.
And I wasn't the only one to notice.
Just as Tony and I finished the first verse, I heard Mary calling from the kitchen, "That was beautiful!" I heard her footsteps approaching. "You have an amazing voice...OH!"
Mary froze in the doorway, no doubt surprised as hell to see a black man in our living room.
Tony stood.
A tall black man.
I could see her size him up.
She noticed the muscles and, when he extended his hand, the sheer size of it.
"Hello!" Tony said, smiling.
"Tony, this is my wife Mary; Mary, Tony."
I had made the introductions, but his hand was still waiting.
I nudged her.
She looked at me momentarily confused, then came to her senses, extending her hand.
"I'm sorry," she apologized. "You just weren't what I pictured in my head. You have a beautiful voice. It didn't sound like a black man's voice. I was confused...sorry, that sounded stupid."
Then, looking at his physique, "You must work out a lot! You have some huge muscles! Doesn't he have some huge muscles, John? I don't think I've ever seen muscles this big so close up! Of course, most black guys are muscled...oh crap, I sounded stupid again! I'm sorry!"
She was rattling on, but despite her insensitive comments, she was still clinging to his hand.
I think she noticed it when I did, for she suddenly let go, pulling it back like some of his blackness might rub off.
"I have to finish in the kitchen!"
And with that she disappeared, scurrying off to finish cleaning up.
After she left, Tony looked at me with an amused look on his face.
Leaning in he whispered, "She doesn't interact with many black people, does she?"
I shook my head sheepishly.
"I get this all the time. It used to anger me, but I realized that people are the way they are largely because they're afraid. Once someone gets to know me, their opinion of me changes and, by extension, of other black men as well. I'll go ask her for a glass of water, and chat with her a bit. I will try to begin to ease her fear of the "unknown"!" he said smiling.
I started to get up.
"Don't trouble yourself- keep practicing the song."
I picked my guitar up and tried singing quietly to myself as I played.
I had only strummed the first chord when I heard a shriek.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I wasn't expecting you in here..." I heard Mary say.
"Quite alright," Tony said. "I was hoping for a glass of water..."
"Of course...Sorry about earlier, I, well..."
"No need to apologize or explain, It happens to me..."
After that I could hear that conversation was happening, but the sound level got quieter so I couldn't make out what was being said.
At one point I heard no sound, so I stopped playing, only to hear Tony start singing precisely where I had paused, "So kiss me and smile for me! Your not practicing, John!"
I heard Mary giggle. Well at least she was more at ease.
After a while Tony came back in the room. He gave me a thumbs-up, to which I smiled and looked relieved for him.
"Okay, not bad for a first session," he said. "here are a few more songs using the same chords. If you are unfamiliar with them, look them up on YouTube and practice for at least 20-30 minutes a day. I'll be back same time next week."
He started to pack up his things when Mary appeared in the doorway.
"Leaving so soon?" she asked.
"I have another student after John here on Tuesday's, so yes, I have to go."
"Well, I really enjoyed the conversation. It's a shame you have to leave. Perhaps you'd like to come forty-five minutes earlier next week and you can have dinner with us?"
"That's very thoughtful of you, only- that would leave me with nothing to do for half an hour after my previous appointment..."
"Then come an hour and fifteen minutes early!" I offered. "Is that okay Mary?"
"Are you sure, John?" she asked.
"Absolutely!" I replied.
"That's settled then, I'll see you next Tuesday at four-thirty" Tony said.
We all shook hands and then Tony left.
After he was gone, I asked Mary how things had gone in the kitchen.
"Oh, I feel so stupid for the way I acted around him!" she said. "He turned out to be such a great conversationalist. He's a genuinely nice guy. I can only imagine what he thinks of me..."
"I'm glad you like him, and don't sweat the awkwardness. He says it happens all the time. I thought he was pretty nice too!"
"Well, I hope you feel that way since for the first half-hour he's here, you won't be!"
"Oh, crap!" I hadn't realized that I didn't get home from work until 5. "I'll call him and change it..."I said.
"No you won't. Not only would that not be polite, but it would tell him you don't trust him!"
"Well I don't, not yet, anyway! I just met him!"
"I'll be fine!" she said, dismissing my concern.
I had serious reservations about my wife being alone with a guy I just met...especially a tall, dark, handsome, muscular black man who seemed at ease with Mary. But it was just half an hour, what could happen in half an hour? She would be cooking anyway.
I tried to put it out of my mind for the next week, but eventually Tuesday did roll around.
On my way home from work, my hands kept gripping the wheel with somewhat of a death grip. They were starting to get sore from my apprehension. I was making my way around a large, sweeping bend in the highway just before the river bridge.
What I saw next horrified me.
Traffic was dead stopped!
Not only was Mary home alone with Tony, but now I was going to be even later!
Why was I so paranoid?
Did I not trust her?
I did not trust him- I barely knew him!
I picked up my phone and called her.
"Hello, Honey!" she said. "Why are you calling? Is something wrong?"
"Yeah, I'm stuck in traffic at the approach to the bridge. I'm going to be late..."
"How late?"
"Well, we're currently not moving, so..."
"Well, I'll see if we can slow down dinner...just hurry, ok?"
"I will."
