December 2009 – Making More of Today

girls-can-be-anything

One of the best-selling toys our culture has produced is the ever-pretty Barbie, by Mattel. As the father of a former young daughter, I have experienced first-hand the playing, dressing and accessories that Barbie brings to our world. It was a positive time of fun as well as social exploration and learning. When my daughter became a teenager, I remember when she decided to remove her Barbies from her bedroom, and it was a strong and sad moment for me. I felt that I should have spent more time sitting together with her, combing Barbie’s hair and play-acting adventures in the safety of our home.

But one of the finest compliments my daughter ever gave me was saying that when she was growing up we made her feel that girls can have any career — that there was nothing a girl couldn’t do. When she got to university she said she was surprised at how, even in our modern equality-sensitive world, there are many young women without the foundations for success.

While some people are not keen on Barbie’s pink color scheme or her stylized body, I prefer to focus on the positive aspects of sharing, community and fun that Barbie-land brings to children. While there is little doubt that daily life rarely achieves the idyllic stylings of a doll’s world, Barbie and her friends provide frameworks for children to explore the concepts of beauty and community, of careers and possibilities.

As adults we know that life can be hard, but we keep on trying to make our world better, both for us and our children. We come to appreciate the more subtle and fleeting moments of beauty in our world, and rejoice when we reconnect with the happy times of our youth.

a-better-life-in-barbie-land-for-all

I recently visited Toys-R-Us, a Mecca for parents seeking to start or augment their own Barbie-land.

A man had just arrived, and as he looked around at the cavalcade of pink my heart reached out to him. He pulled out his cell phone, knowing he was in over his head, and wisely called his wife or sister to help him.

He was part of a centuries-long chain of dedicated parents and caregivers who want children to have not just fun, but a time of peaceful wonder, discovery and beauty — to know possibilities and to not feel limited by anything. We want that for children, whether we had that in our own childhood or not, because that is what we want for ourselves.

So when someone says “Stop and smell the roses” I often think of them as pink roses, and I remember the joys and possibilities of Barbie-land.

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no-way-to-play I love music, and I always have. It makes my body move and my spirit soar. I have many favorite songs and passages, and I can listen to them repeatedly — thrilling to the skill and nuance of the performers.

My brain plays songs I’ve heard, like a tape recorder in my head. But sometimes it plays songs I’ve never heard, and those are the hard ones for me to hear, without the skills to make them real.

When I was in first year university I lived in a residence with many other young men. It was a mix of hard working students and party lovers, all learning to live away from home. Many people left their hallway doors open, and there was a real community feel in the dorm.

One of the guys on my floor played classical guitar, and I often heard his skilled and melodic playing floating down the hallway. I was a shy person but, drawn by the sound of his guitar, I introduced myself. Over the next couple of weeks I often spent time sitting in his room, listening to him play. He wasn’t limited to classical guitar — he could play anything, from folk to rock. It was amazing and wonderful to hear up close.

One day when I dropped in my friend was reading a book. He welcomed me, and as I sat down he saw me looking at the guitar. “Pick it up,” he said. “Give it a try.”

I carefully picked up his beautiful acoustic guitar and clumsily sat it across my lap. “You won’t break it,” he said. “Just try.”

I had no clue about notes or how to play, and the sheer number of frets was intimidating. But I plucked out some notes, slowly and quietly at first, and then more enthusiastically. I was surprised by the vibration of the guitar — of the physical pulse that accompanied the start of each note. It was an extra dimension that a non-musician would not have experienced.

With my friend kindly appearing to ignore me and read his book, I tried playing a bit more. After a few minutes of fiddling around I found a series of notes that sounded good to me, and my awkward fingers somehow got them into a loop. It was fun!

Just then another guy from the floor came into the room. No doubt he had heard disturbingly awful playing coming from an otherwise quality guitar.

“That’s not how you play,” he said, shaking his head and frowning. “That’s no way to play a guitar.”

My gut wrenched, and I felt a wave of shame and regret that I had dared to pick up that guitar. I have no memory of anything my friend might have said at that moment. All I remember is a dark hole being punched through my fledgling attempt at music, and then a lot of years passing. I still loved music and appreciated musicians — even more than before — but any thoughts I had of playing music were kept small out of a fear of rejection, and easily brushed aside in the busy-ness of work and family.

Last year at Christmas I received some money as a gift, and with it I bought myself a beautiful guitar, which looks a lot like the one my friend played at school years ago. It sits in the corner of my room — a reminder to appreciate our world’s creative and musical communities, and those who encourage them.

Sometimes I pick it up. I have taken guitar lessons — from a skilled and lifelong music teacher — so I can play a few chords.

But I can never get back those years when I was a vulnerable young man trying to play music for the first time. I was an impressionable, sensitive person who a jerk successfully shot down.

My son playing my guitar on stage. Please encourage the musicians and artists in your life.

I have a son now, just a bit older than I was in this story. He is a wonderful guitarist and musically skilled in ways that I admire but can not quite comprehend. He has tried to teach me some music, and has encouraged me to play more. “You’re over-thinking it,” he has told me, no doubt correctly.

But the extra 30 years of life have changed my brain, and are not easily erased.

If they could be, and I were back in that dorm room, I would wish for two things to have happened: My guitar-playing friend would have kicked the jerk out of the room and told me in a clear and supportive voice, “You’re doing great. Keep trying”.

And I would have kept trying — enjoying and knowing how to play a musical instrument.

Please be a patron of the Arts. Whether your child or friend loves music, drama, dance, art or writing — please be supportive and encouraging. The Arts and our community, not money, are the collective value of our world.

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Monthly Archives: December 2009

A better life in Barbie-land

No way to play a guitar