Mr. Peterson

Last night, Tiger pulled out his guitar, and I pulled out my bass, and we worked on a song for the company picnic, The Monkee's "I'm a Believer." He asked me if I wanted to sing with the Band his company was putting together for the picnic and I said of course, thinking it would be a bunch of hacks like me, only to find out that it is a bunch of professionals who do music on the side. I started to get a bit intimidated. I mean, sure, deep down I want to be a rock star (who doesn't?), but then I got married, finished school, had a baby, etc. and I haven't played in about 6 years, really (when I was 19 I put together enough decent stuff to record a demo. I did a bit after that, a few coffee shop shows, but nothing much). So we're planning on singing in front of all his coworkers without a practice session. Groovy. It's been a dream of mine for the last 12 years or so to play music with my spouse--you know, a husband and wife team--of whom Over the Rhine is my new shining example of cool. So I find my musical guy, married him, and, as far as music and us and playing together goes, blah. Nothing. A fantastic marriage, but a bit disappointing musically speaking. Until last night. We had a blast. I guess I'd always been a bit hung-up about doing original material, and due to a creative dry spell this led to doing not much at all. So we were working on "I'm a Believer," which I knew was not a Smashmouth original, but did not realize was the Monkees. God bless iTunes. You can find just about anything you want whenever you want it.

When I was in early elementary we had this music teacher, Mr. Peterson. He wore Nacho Libre-type polyester pants and white boots (actually, Mr. P's were black, but same general style) and had a Monkee's-type haircut, which were totally off the cool-radar of 1986. We thought he was such a dork. Fridays were "Guitar Day," and he would pull out his guitar and hand out typed packets of song lyrics and we would sing songs like "Puff the Magic Dragon," "Take the Last Train to Clarksville," and that song about West Virginia by John Denver. We liked guitar days, even though our first-grade selves didn't know where he got these weird songs that weren't by Warrant, Poison, or Bon Jovi (Actually , I'm a bit appalled that the kids in my class had those albums as first-graders--the only reason I knew about those bands was because of "Tape Day," which was also a Mr. Peterson exclusive).

I'm now realizing that Mr. Peterson was probably just some poor guy who had wanted to be a professional musician and took the prudent and safe way by becoming a music teacher. He probably wasn't nearly as old as we thought he was, and probably had "Guitar Days" as a sanity break from all the ridiculous and mind-numbing songs in our elementary music books. I mean, what self-respecting musician--or any adult for that matter--can take songs about "my funny bone" all day? He really did try to make music fun for us. What kindergarten or first-grader can really appreciate what an adult is doing for them by having Musical Chair Day? Judging by his clothes, hair cut, and song choices, he probably had wanted to be a Monkee, and instead was in some town the size of a thimble teaching music to a bunch of squirley , bratty elementary school kids in a tiny, depressing basement room all day. I pretty much want to bash my head in a wall for this poor chap. Guitar Day was really a brilliant move on his part.

Well, here's to Mr. Peterson and all the closet Rock Stars out there. Even if we never get up the courage, the talent, or the luck to really do it, may we all find a way to have Guitar Day.