Your grandpa has a yen for old instruments picked up from thrift stores and church basements. On this trip, you have taken up the bugle. It's true! Your sense of voice, tone, and craftsmanship seems to move up by the minute.
Tonight you were doing an almost spot-on version of Jingle Bells, one of the first songs that you learned to sing. Yesterday, you recorded a song. You simply love Papa's bugle.
Since your baby days, you have resisted any attempts that I have made to play guitar. It has been a source of grief and frustration over the years. Now, with bugle in hand, you are asking me to grab the guitar and "be the clown" in your marching band. As clown, I get to play guitar. I am not only playing, we are finding audiences of pretend friends and citizens all over the house. You cue me and that is fine. In fact, it is as it should be.
I have played guitar on and off for almost twenty years. During that time, I have never been invited into a real band; until now. I can't think of any bugler I would rather follow, anybody's clown who I would rather be. Send me the cues, I will pluck and strum the funk and love of each moment as it unfolds. Let the band play on!