Me and the Boy and the Ukulele

Bill is in London.  Mary is still in Iowa with my mom.  It is just me and the boy.  And the ukulele.  Bill gave Calvin his childhood ukulele for his birthday.  It didn't have any strings.  On Saturday, Bill took Calvin and I out to the music store in the Challenger.   At Groth Music, they said ukulele is all the rage.  Great, I always count on being fashionably musical.  The strings cost $5.00.  We were a little concerned that the wee instrument might implode when the guitar tech guy tightened up the strings and tuned it.  No such luck. Decca is the brand name.  Hippie music store clerk says, "yeah, Decca tried their hand at musical instruments years ago, but it was a catastrophe."  Seeing the look on our faces, he adds, "except of course the ukuleles, they were sturdy little instruments. . . "  Yeah.  Thanks, buddy.   I daydream that I am whacking him over the head with the ukulele.

Another $5.95 buys us the beginners method book "Mel Bay's Fun With the Ukulele."  Fun is an understatement.

In previous blog entries I noted that experts claim that 10,000 is the number of hours it takes to become an expert at any given skill.  A mother never dreams that her son might log the time on the ukulele.

On the way home from the store, in Bill's hot rod muscle car, Calvin's sings his heart out in the back seat strumming along to "Home, Home on the Range."  We are one hip family.  I daydream we are pulled over by a state trooper who says, "Son, I need you to step away from the ukulele."

The thing about a ukulele versus the piano--the ukulele is portable.  For better or for worse.

I awaken to the sound of "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean" in full voice at 5:45 a.m.

I brush my teeth to the accompaniment of "The Blue Tail Fly."

Breakfast to "Buffalo Gals."

Trip to the bathroom?  "The Old Grey Mare."

Fun with the Ukulele.

You can take a ukulele into the closet.  "She'll Be Coming Round the Mountain."  Calvin, I need a little space to get dressed. . .

Laundry?  "I've Been Working on the Railroad."

Eight of 10,000 hours already logged.  He's mastered "Fun With the Ukulele."  Of course, he keeps reviewing the songs in the Suzuki spirit.  Again, and again.  And again.

He's playing right now.  "Oh! Susanna."  I'm serious.  He has quite the knack for it.  In my left ear. You can play ukulele pulled up in the chair next to your mother at the computer.

They had more expensive ukuleles at the store.  I think there was one there for $300.  It begs the question--can one really get a better sound on a more expensive instrument?  I'm not going there.  He also just jams on the tiny little ax--his own arrangements of course.
Where's my ax?
Calgon take me away.
Sing yourself to bed, Calvin. . . "Good Night Ladies. . . "