These words were immortalized by the infamous Dr. Frankenstein as electrical currents ran through his monstrosity, bringing the creature to life.
Well, it seems that I have created a little monster of my own.
SPACESHIP DAYS has no greater fan on the planet than my son, Dylan. Unlike my band mates he knows every word, singing them and mimicking every drum fill from the back seat of my car. So it was no great surprise when he finally asked me to teach him how to play the guitar and write songs. What was surprising was the mixed feelings I had about this request.
On one hand, I was excited that he might have an artistic streak and craved a musical outlet to release all the emotions that any prepubescent boy feels. I thought it was great that we have such a connection that for this very brief moment in time my son actually thinks that what I do is "cool". That will undoubtedly change.
Then again, I knew that I was setting myself up for hours and hours of listening to him bash through the same two chords on a horribly out of tune, toy guitar. I felt like the Grinch "All that NOISE, NOISE, NOISE, NOISE from all the Who Girls and all the Who the Boys!" Also, keep in mind that for all of the pride and beauty that comes from being American... we are not the most patient people in the world. It's in our DNA.
So after a whole 5 minutes of guitar lessons, my son wanted to record an "album"...
OH BOY (pause for deep breath)
"Let's start off with one song before we get to an album", I said flashing back to my own experience with 'cutting a record' after being in a band for a whole week. Alright, it was a cassette but there were other, more important details to consider just then.
"What do you want this song to be about?" I asked.
He sat back and thought with that intense and unbelievably cute 'I'm Thinking' expression that young ones get from time to time, "Hmmmm... " he mused.
A few seconds went by and I could almost see a light bulb appear over his head
"I got it...." the boy declared triumphantly. " This song will be about my most favorite person in the world!"
Pride took the form of little teardrops in my eyes. WOW! I thought. My son thinks I am so awesome that he is going to write a song about me.
"MOM!" he yelled.
And the dream crashes and burns...
"Oh OK"... "Yeah, I guess she's pretty OK" I said, as an unnatural lump developed in my throat.
Over the next few minutes we string together a few chords and some beautiful lyrics...
"Mommy, you are my world....BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, something, something, whatever" (I am definitely not jealous or anything)
Then we set up a little microphone... record it into my computer... and burn... a CD!!!
A CD ??!!! (What the...?!)
It took me 20 years of living to hear my band on compact disc and now my little guy has recorded a solo track on one in just under 7!
Best of all Mommy loved the song, and even if the tune's subject matter is a bit suspect... I couldn't be prouder.
Well done Grasshopper... Your kung fu is good!