Harmonica

I stood outside of Guitar Center and stared at the sign. Looks like it's been a while since they washed the outside of this building, I thought. I have never been into a Guitar Center store before. It's one of those mysterious places that I think cool people hang out at. The feeling of walking into this store was the same feeling I had walking into Trader Joe's for the first time. In the Trader Joe's experience, my entrance was a little bit timid. I was unsure about where everything was and what to even do. Everyone in the store seems to know what they're doing, but I wouldn't know where to even begin. It feels like everyone is looking at you wondering why you have trespassed onto their cool-people only territory.

This time would be different. I will confidently walk into Guitar Center and blend right in with the musically talented crowd. With one hand in my pocket, I walked in and was immediately greeted by the store DJ who said, "Hey, hows it goin' man!" Still in fake-cool mode I respond with a slick, "Wassup." That may have been the lamest response ever. Here's Mr. DJ man trying to make me feel welcome, and I can only muster a word that consists of two conjoined fragments made popular by 7up. Already I'm losing.

This place is incredible. There are guitars hanging off the walls, stand up cut outs of rock stars, the DJ is playing classic rock songs, some guy in the back is shredding a guitar as he tests it out. Not looking where you walk is dangerous. I'm nearly running into displays and shoppers as I search for my corner of the store.

Hold up, I never made clear what I was looking for at Guitar Center. I'm looking for a harmonica. It's that silver instrument that is played in a lot of blues bands. I compared brands, prices, recommendations, and so on. Of course, my frugality trumped everything and I got the cheapest one. I left with my new purchase. When I got to the car, I did what any normal six-year-old would do. I ripped open the packaging and checked it out! It was beautiful.

The last week has been a blast. During commercials, I mute the TV and practice playing "When the Saints go Marching In." It's the only song I know. Wife thought it was pretty good. By the 37th commercial though,  she was slightly annoyed. I don't blame her, but I have to keep practicing so I can become a blues legend someday.

There are probably so many questions by everyone. I know what you're thinking, "Matt, why would you - with all your potential of playing Major League Baseball right now - put aside your intense training schedule to pick up playing a harmonica?" Actually, some of that may have not been what you're thinking. Maybe just the part about, "Why would you pick up playing a harmonica?" Either way, let the elaboration begin.......

Everybody goes through phases as a kid. Right? Maybe you remember going to the airport to drop someone off when you were little and became enamored with airplanes after that. Or after a visit to the history museum, you can't stop talking and learning about dinosaurs. Small events trigger in us a wild passion.

The examples used are from those of children, but I think it would be lying to say that we don't get excited about doing something new as adults. Don't you ever get psyched about something and then take off with it? Some people will do a 5K for charity fun run for the first time. Before you know it, that person has every issue of Runners World and a collection of race t-shirts. Or how 'bout this, I've seen this one first hand: It takes a few episodes of Gordon Ramsay in Hell's Kitchen and boom, the viewer-turned-chef and you got a new meal being cooked every night with entrees no one can pronounce.

Here's the point: find something that forces your feet to move and do it. It keeps life interesting and fresh. Run. Swim. Train. Cook. Explore. Hike. Play. Read. Write. Watch. Find. Travel. Design. Build. It doesn't matter. Just do it.



Along with my harmonica, I'm presently pursuing another passion. I've wanted a kayak for years. We live minutes from Lake Erie. Every time I'm up there for a run or swim, I wish I had a kayak to explore with. It would be the best thing ever. Unfortunately, home space limitations have kept that idea a dream. It wont be long though. I'll be out on the water in my kayak jammin' out to When the Saints Go Marching In on my harmonica.