. . . a passtime, a hobby, a treasure, a joy, a therapy, a passion in music. Not consciously, mind you. But music and I became one. We were joined at the hip and never found each other to be a burden.
And as I uncomfortably approached, then entered adolescence, I found that music could be a comfort; a refuge. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
As a young guitarist, who never took a lesson or ever really played a guitar with any semblance of skill, at the tender age of seven, my Mother received a phone call. A young entrepreneur was opening a 'music studio' in our very own east Baltimore neighborhood. (I always thought the term 'music studio' sounded impressive. Sophisticated, cultured and exclusive.) This studio was to be called the Maryland Accordion Institute. (Talk about impressive, sophisticated, cultured and exclusive.) The phone call was telemarketing for prospective clientele, namely wee sprites who were interested in learning to play that prince of all reed instruments, king of the Bohemian beer hall, and butt of many, many jokes - the accordion. But, this was not the perception held by myself at the time. Nor was it the perception held by many in a similar position at the time. It was, quite honestly (and truly , unashamedly) an interesting and desirable proposition. I was, indeed, VERY interested in learning to play the accordion. DAMNED interested. Those Sunday afternoons listening to Dad play his accordion, combined with my natural love of music, possibly even my lack of ambition and talent on the guitar, all united in my seven year old brain forming a profound hunger to learn to play the accordion.
As odd as it sounds, I did not regret at the time, nor do I now regret not pursuing the 'cool' -er musical path of playing the guitar. It just never occurred to me that that's what I should have done. And I never looked back.
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ANOTHER SHOT
by Ray Jozwiak
