I took Boy to Leimert Park this weekend. I'm trying to teach him rhythm and assertiveness and dip him in the waters of black manhood. It was all kind of spontaneous but it worked out nicely.
The first thing we had to do was get him down to Shelton's because he's basically been wearing the sheep's butt hairdo all year. Since he's a handsome kid, he can pull it off. He's got that Gary Dourdan thing working, and since he's been in the sun, he's getting reddish blonde tips. Just like his old man used to when I had the 6 inch fro. But he's also starting to dread. Now that looks good in the front where he had a crown of pointy looking things but in the back it's all mat. So the Spousal Unit took the initiative to get a kiddy kit and comb him out. The result was less than stellar. He looked like he had a 3 month old Jheri curl, which in the back was a marked improvement, but in the front had him looking like Lionel Ritchie after a party that went all night long. Not good.
So I had to take control of the situation and suggest that it was time to get all that crap off. So we headed to Nicky's chair at Sheltons whereupon Nicky had him comb the whole thing out. Heavens to mergatroid. I had no idea how folded up his head was. Seemed like a good seven inches up there. Well we took care of that in a hurry, and it turns out that he's got the family head. We just didn't realize. It had been about 18 months at least since the last cut. This time we burned it down to an old school fade. You could actually see that his scalp was three degrees lighter than the rest of his face and neck. Nick squared it up and left him a little flip in the front. Suddenly my 13 year old boy started to look like a man. Freaky that. But he liked it, as did everyone else.
Fresh from this event we headed back across town through the old neighborhood but not before we stopped off for a massive pastrami at Johnny's. The flavor and grease were all up to par. As we headed south on Crenshaw I started telling him about all the old joints that used to be around there, including the original Chinese laundry where the proprietor wore the queue and the whole black suit. We landed over at Liemert Park while the grease and pickle juice ruined the bottom of the pastrami bag, grabbed a table over where brothers were slammin' bones and proceeded to 'grease', as Pops used to say.
After finishing half a sammich, we headed over to the fountain and watched the drum circle. There were about 8 dudes jamming, including a couple rather inchoate chinese flutists. Boy got the fever and we eventually chatted up a big brother with a grey goatee and mirroshades who was a flute and piccolo player. (Do you remember that joke from Robin Harris?). Anyway after some conversation we agreed to head back to the South Bay, get his instruments and come back. When we finally arrived two hours later, the vibe hand changed.
Now that he actually had his instruments and needed to pick up the rhythm and play, Boy was dumbfounded. He's an academic player, not a natural. Or rather I should say he's naturally academic. For him all he needs is a fingering chart and he can play flute, sax, trumpet or french horn. He reads the music, he plays the song. Not great, but good enough for middle school band. He has only recently tried to play alongside CDs that he has and basically lacks the instincts for improv. But I hold out a lot of hope for him. His favorite song to play on the flute is the Beatle's "Paperback Writer". His favorite song to play on the trumpet is Joe Zawinul's "Birdland". It's true that he can appreciate Louis Armstrong but in fact he's a lot better with the Lennon and McCartney songbook. I just thought of something. Maybe my buddy Bill will have time to kick with him this summer. Brilliant. Anyway, now I'm trying to get him to feel the rhythm.
I imagine it's intimidating to try and improvise in a drum circle of crusty old dudes when you don't really know where the rhythm begins or ends, but he gave it a try. I had to interrupt between jams to introduce him and beg some indulgence, but he still didn't really get into it until a couple of the drummers called him out by name and invited him closer. He was really freaking out when we got there because Mirrorshades had disappeared and the quick rapport he established with him was what got him started. But despite the derelicts whose yelping added to the street mix, Boy managed to get into the circle for once and improvised well. Interestingly he was trying to build a song that was much more complex than the situation demanded and so he lost his way. I kept saying for him to play two or three notes a la 'So What' until he really mastered the rhythm but he went on to try arpeggios in shifting chords. He's all melody based, which ain't a bad thing, but not advisable when joining a drum circle for the first time in life, especially when your Euro melodies ain't swinging with the African beats. But nobody cursed him out and it was a good day.
After that, we headed over to the Bridge and took in the latest Nicholas Cage movie. I'm just getting used to the fact that he's officially able to watch PG-13, although there are some wildly differing standards in my house than in the houses of MPAA and the video games rating boards. 'Next' however was not a disappointment at all, as time-travel movies go it was actually very well thought through. I liked the ending too.
Boy is shy. That's because like a lot of suburban kids with stay at home mothers, he is over mothered and on the receiving end of a lot of orders and rules. It worries me from time to time but I think I know how to balance it out, and that is through self-expression through skills. So I am building in him a creative rebellion, one in which he gains independence by spending more time doing his thing, which I ensure is a good thing. Getting him out there in *his* world is my way of showing him. I think it's working.
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