My dad is a man of eccentric and short-lived hobbies, he
hits them hard and them puts them away forever. During this time in
our lives and somehow entwined in the power struggle ritual of
nightly scripture reading and quite time was my dad's new hobby of
practicing the banjo. Every night my dad would open his bedroom door
pull out the old five string and start plunking away for about an
hour. Some times he would yell at us to be quite or to turn off that
noise. That noise was any radio playing anything anywhere in the
house. I don't know why he was drawn to the banjo or why he had to
have absolute silence throughout the house to practice it but I think
it has something to do with his southern upbringing. The genetic
makeup of southerners predisposes them to produce and enjoy music
made my tinny and piercing instruments. The Ulster-Scott and German
blood in my dad's veins made him at turns monomaniacal and fickle. As
far as his desire for a irrational amount of control I think that
come from just being a full blown butt hole, which he came by
honestly. I was about to write that a rational person who wanted to
learn to play the banjo would do such and such like finding a
secluded spot free from interruption and distracting noises and not
expect the whole world to grind to a halt at your whim, but then I
realized that no rational person wants to learn the banjo. It is
entirely unnecessary. After three or so years of not getting any
better and trying to command silence from the family from his
Lay-Z-Boy banjo throne, the fancy passed and my dad was done with the
banjo. Not knowing the future I can still with confidence say he is
done for good.
