Just Wanted to Learn

by William Swafford

  It’s like I have to fight to keep the guitar in my life. I tell myself to just pick it the guitar up all the time, but there are always better things to do. I have been listening to music more, but not like I used to.

  There are times I try playing the old stuff, but it doesn’t last long. I lost all reason to even play. It is no fun playing alone anymore.

  People go out and play, and then give it up. They can be satisfied with that, but sometimes I feel that I can’t be.

  I started losing my long fight with faith in religion and in others. Everything bad that happens I blame God. I stopped reading my Bible. I didn’t even want to think about God.

  I started hating myself for turning out like my dad. I haven’t done the bad things that my dad did when I was younger. I do have some of his bad qualities that I didn’t like when I seen them in him.

  I try not to be like him and change. I always find a reason to keep doing the same things. The way I feel doesn’t change when I am trying to get better.

  I still have issues that I have to deal with. They seem to get worse every time I try to deal with them. I don’t have the trust in others to get these issues out

  I believe that I have failed my dad. He wanted me to be better than him at music and I’m not. I’m a descent guitarist, but still have a whole lot to learn. All the things that I had gone through just to learn what I did have been a waste.

  I don’t even try putting words to music anymore. The last time I really sat down to write a song I was living at Chad’s trailer.

  It’s not hard for me to write. There is just nothing in me to be able to sit down and write a song.

  It took ten months to hear from Bill after my dad’s death. He said that he was torn up about the news. I lost all respect for my dad’s except for the two who had shown up for the grave site service.

  I find it hard to trust what he said. I just might still be holding some resentment from the past.

  I tried talking to a guy at work about playing music. His name was Raymond and he said that he was a drummer.

  He was about my height and wore glasses. He wore all black and admits he has problems with authority.

  Raymond didn’t seem to be the brightness book on the shelf. He had already mentioned something about doing drugs. Sometimes he was hard to talk to.

  I had asked him what he could play on the drums. He said everything on his IPod. That only tells me that he might not be able to hear what he is playing while his earphones are in.

  He had talked about how he was in a Kiss tribute band, which I’m not a big fan of. I thought about talking about playing together, but didn’t have the time to do it. He had gotten up in the middle of the work shift and quit his job.

  I’m afraid to talk about putting together a band now. I don’t have good enough equipment to do what I should be doing. It gets frustrating.

  I used to have everything I needed to go out and play. Now, I barely have enough to play around the house.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  I can’t say that my family life has really recovered throughout the years. I still don’t know how to act or talk around my mom and brother. They also have things going on in their lives.

  My brother Lee finally made it to prison. After several arrests and somehow getting off, everything finally caught up to him. I didn’t know how to feel about the situation.

  His last arrest was the day before Easter. He was arrested with Ted that we had known since high school. It was for having chemicals to cook meth.

  This made for a quiet Easter. My mom and Lee’s daughter were upset. His son didn’t know about it till later. He was at my mom’s ex-husband’s parents’ house when he had seen his dad on the news.

  I had only seen him once when he was in the county jail. My cousin was also there. She talked to him more than I did.

  I haven’t talked or seen him since he has been in prison. He keeps asking my mom why I haven’t done so. I just don’t know what to say to him. His problems seemed to become my problem.

  Cops look at me knowing that I’m his brother. They stop me and try to fool me by calling me by his name. His friends think I’m him and want me to help them buy drugs.

  I had gone months without seeing my brother when he was out. We couldn’t hang out together because of what he was doing. Not because it was making him a bad person, but because I would have been right there beside him doing it.

  All the drugs I have tried besides ecstasy, Lee had introduced me to. I made my own decisions, but I just want to have a brother. I wanted all the friends that he had.

  I do try and ask about him when I talk to my mom. It’s not like I don’t love my brother. I just don’t know what to say to him or if I could even look him in the eyes.

  My mom always tries to keep going no matter what. She still takes care of my brother’s two kids. They get more than her own kids got.

  One thing that always bothered me is that my mom has never really sat down and listened to me play. I know why, but don’t think that it is fair. I don’t tell her how I feel about it.

  I always wonder why she bought me the music equipment that she did. Why buy stuff that would only keep me going if she was so against? Did she somehow know that I was never going to stop, no matter what?

  She always said that my dad was an evil man. I know that she has her reasons. He truly terrified her. I’m sure that I don’t know everything that had went on between the two of them.

  I don’t even know if she knew much of my dad’s music history before they had met. There were many years that there wasn’t a safe question to ask about the man. I knew better to mention his name.

  After my dad died she had surprised me, by saying something I thought that I would never hear her say. All I ever hear is bad stuff about him. That’s all I come to expect.

  We were sitting at her kitchen table looking at the photo album my cousin had given me. She said that there was a time that she did love my dad. It had taken me by surprise.

  She can’t say that my dad wasn’t a good guitarist. She watched the alcohol and drugs take him down like the rest of us. I can understand that there was mixed feelings about him.

  I don’t know how I would react playing in front of my mom. I have always had respect for my mom even though she might not think so. I don’t believe that I’m good enough to play in front of my mom.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  I try not to deal with everything that has happened. I don’t visit the graves of the loved ones that were lost in my past. The best way for me to move on is to not think about things.

  It might not be the best way to deal with things. I only do what I need to just to get through a day. That’s why I always wanted to just keep learning. The more that I had learned the more the other stuff got pushed to the back of my mind.

  There are still so many questions left about myself. Did I pay my dues in life and in music? Can I say that I am a good person and that I did my best to be a good guitar player?

  I can’t say that I will ever try to be in a band again. My dad’s not here to keep pushing me to play. Who will do the pushing?

  I did get my Les Paul back. I don’t play around the house like I used to. There are a lot of reasons why I wanted to get that guitar back. The feeling to play is hard to come by anymore.

  There are tons of people who are satisfied with just playing guitar around the house, alone or for friends. Why can’t I be one of those people? I wanted to at least experience more in music than what I did.

  Sometimes I believe that I want more out of music than what I am willing to work for. A true musician wouldn’t give up just because there was no one to cheer them on. Can any excuse really be justified?

  I sit and look at the picture that has been in my family since I was little. My dad sitting on my Grandma Selby’s couch and he is playing a twelve string acoustic guitar. His hair shoulder length and beard trim
med. He was wearing a flannel shirt and blue jeans.

  Was it meant for me to play the twelve string guitar? Was I meant to go down the path that I did? Some day things will become clear to me.

  Will I make the changes in my life that I have been trying to make for years? My last few years cannot be like the ones in the past. I don’t want to die like my dad and for people not to show respect for what I have done in my life.

  There will always be times that I will pick the guitar up and see what happens. There’s no way of telling how my life will turn out. Maybe, if I can teach my daughter how to sing Amazing Grace, then maybe I’ll pick up the harp and try to follow along.

  There’s no such thing as bad music. It is all about what a person is trying to get out of it.

  About The Author

  William Swafford is from Eaton, Ohio. He is the father of a beautiful girl. The guitar on the cover is the actual that William Swafford wrote about. He had built it to impress his dad.

  Other Books:

  Novels,

  Mound Hill Cemetery

  When I Was Seventeen

  A Boy’s Revenge

  The Four Horsemen Cometh, And Hell Follows

  Poetry Books:

  My Life Through Poetry

  This Is How I Feel

  Go Crazy With Me

  All books can be found on-line at Amazon and Barnes and Noble.