An Open Letter to Parents With Kids Who Are Aspiring Musicians

Dear Fellow Parent with a musically inclined child living with you,

I get it. You've heard the same chord, note or song over and over and over again. Maybe your son or daughter has even ruined a particular song or artist for you forever because you've heard it a million times emanating from their bedroom or maybe the garage or basement. For me, the Red Hot Chili Peppers will never be the same as they have been on my son Drew's Top 40 for the last year.

Trust me, I get it. Hang in there and keep supporting your kid to let them take their talent to a place that makes them happy and gives them a sense of accomplishment and self-worth.

Recently, I told you about "The Guitar That Created a Monster Out of My Son". He started playing about three years ago and has taught himself. He's actually come a long way with never having a lesson. Before the guitar, he learned to play the clarinet and then the saxophone  and taught himself the keyboard as well. I'm amazed by him because I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.

As a sports-loving father, I was, of course, tickled to death that Drew has played baseball, football, basketball, golf and cross-country. Heck, I even taught him how to play blackjack! He loves all of them but nothing -- NOTHING!  -- even comes close to his fascination with playing the guitar currently.

With the recent passing of guitar god Eddie Van Halen, my son and I have had the occasion to delve deeper into music by artists that I grew up with. While Drew is a huge fan of the Foo Fighters, Pearl Jam, etc., I've gotten to introduce him to Jimi Hendrix, Duane Allman, Eric Clapton and Van Halen. It's some of the best father-son bonding we've ever had together. He turns me on to stuff as well that I doubtfully would ever consider listening to if it weren't for him.

So hang in there. Somewhere between all those squeaks, missed notes, repetitious scales is a great opportunity to share with one another! Remember, it goes by fast!!!

Rock on!

Todd E. Lyons, Esquire