The Hair Flip That Changed Your Life

Jeff Nathan

You wake up one Friday morning to your mother’s footsteps clomping up the stairs. The doorknob turns and she’s telling you to get up and brush your teeth, Dad will be calling soon. You leap out of bed, vault over your cat, and hurdle into the bathroom before your sister can get there. You brush your hair and teeth in record time, and head out as your mother and sister walk in. You’re pulling on your favorite red sweatshirt when you hear the Skype noise coming from downstairs. You yell that you’ve got it and jump down the steps two at a time and plant your seven-year-old butt in the spinning roller chair you’re only allowed to sit in when dad calls. You click the green phone button and immediately spin yourself in the fastest circle possible. “Hi Dad!” “Morning, bud. Having fun?” “Yeah!” You say circularly. “Where’s Mom and Haley?” “They’re coming. Mom’s still brushing her hair. When do you come home today?” “Well, my flight leaves here in two hours, and it’s an eight-hour flight. Can you figure out what time I’ll be home?” You stop the spin by grabbing the desk with two hands and do the math on your fingers but below the computer desk so he doesn’t see. “Five o’clock tonight?” He smiles. “Nice one! It should be around then if there are no delays.” “Well I say no delays, so no delays!” He chuckles. “Well in that case, I’ve something special for you and Haley when I get home.” You beg him to tell me what it is. Plead for a hint of some kind. Give him your longest pleeeeeeeeeeeease. He refuses. Your mother and sister come downstairs. Haley whines that she wants to sit in the chair, she never gets to sit in the chair, it’s not fair. Your mother gives you that Look, and you get up. Whatever> You’re mad anyway, you want to know the surprise. At school, it’s all you can think about. Could it be a gigantic candy bar? Or maybe he stole another tall glass like he did the last time. Time is molasses. The day is perpetual. Don’t look at the clock. Don’t look at the clock. 18 | Perception

Don’t you dare look at that clock. You peek. It’s only 11:04. The school day takes thirty-hundred-thousand hours. You and Haley walk the 100 yards from school together towards the gap in your yard’s fence. Mom is waiting in the window. She waves. You wave back. Sammie is at the door, jumping up to lick your face and nose and chin and ears as you put your bag down. You eat a snack before going to karate. Peanut butter crackers. On the way home, you look at the car clock. It says 4:45. You shout happily that Dad will be home soon. You stay in your karate clothes while you pose as lookout for his arrival from the couch. After dozens of agonizing minutes, headlights shine through the blinds. Outside, the January air is crisp and hurts your lungs when you breathe in. You turn into a baby koala as the door opens and he steps out. He and the cab driver laugh as you wrap him in your little koala arms around him. He carries you to the door where he hot swaps you out for Haley. The driver brings in his suitcase. After kissing your mom (gross), he puts Haley down and pulls something rectangular out of his bag before putting it behind his back. “Did you guys behave for Mom while I was gone?” You and Haley nod your heads vigorously, but he looks at her anyway to check. She looks at you. “Pinching Haley last night because she wouldn’t let you sit in the good chair is your idea of behaving, is it?” You stick to your guns. “It was an accident! Remember?” Dad chuckles. “If there are no more accidents tonight, you guys can have your special British chocolate bars.” That must be what he has behind his back! But when he brings his hand out in front of him, he’s holding a DVD with a guitar on it. In thin, rounded writing it says “Old Grey Whistle Test” on the front over a picture of an acoustic guitar. He tells you it’s a video of a whole bunch of famous people who were on a TV show in England where they could play music. Seems pretty cool, but now that the idea of chocolate is in your head, you need it. Now. Thankfully, he pulls out two Lion bars from the same pocket of his suitcase, which you and Haley grab and eagerly cram into your mouths before Mom can tell you to save them for tomorrow. Dad starts telling boring stories to Mom about his trip, so you decide to watch the new the DVD. You know the drill. TV on. Input 2. Big square button that goes click on the DVD player. Smaller rectangular button with the triangle and line beneath it. DVD in. Spring 2020 | 19

Press play. Music plays and stars begin to appear on the screen. They form into a dancing man, who kicks the largest star in a frenzied fit of dancing. The star explodes and the first band comes on. A man who pronounces his words funnily says they’re the police, but they don’t look like the police. They sing about they can’t stand losing me. Kind of weird, considering they don’t know me, but it’s a good song. They’ve got green lights in the background, and green is a cool color. The song ends, a new one begins, and your life changes forever. Four guys, jet black hair. Each one has a black leather jacket and ripped jeans. The leader has sun glasses. He counts to four really fast twice in a row, and you’re hit with a wall of sound. The cymbals crash, and every time they do the guy with the guitar flips his hair up. Your eyes are dinner plates. Chills shoot down your spine. It’s possible to be this cool? It might be so he can see, but who cares. He’s the coolest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s beyond cool. He’s standing shirtless on a glacier in a blizzard during February. He’s ice water after chewing six sticks of mint gum. Dad tells you his name is Johnny Ramone. You watch their song six times in a row. They’re singing about a placed called the Rock in Roll High School. After the sixth time, everyone tells you to play the rest of the video. A guy named Iggy Pop comes on next, and proceeds to immediately take his shirt off. A group of guys call The Specials with horns and guitars sing a song about some dude name Rudy. Some guy named Bob sings about stirring something up. All you can think about are the Ramones and their leather jackets when you go to bed that night. The next morning is Saturday, and you watch the Ramones play over and over again. When you get tired of them, you watch the rest of the acts. You like a band called U2. Another one called Lynyrd Skynyrd. That guy Bob Marley is actually pretty good. You start to notice the one thing all the good bands have in common. It’s so obvious. All you need to be like them is a guitar to play. You jump up and run into your dad’s office. He’s typing on the computer. You shout to him how you need to learn to play the guitar. He laughs it off as excitement from the Whistle Test DVD. You go back the next day and ask him again. He says to ask him later. After a week of asking every day, he starts to take you seriously. “Let me think about it,” he says one night at dinner. You want to scream and yell that there’s nothing to think about and that this is your life calling and nothing could be more important than learning to play a guitar and flip your hair and wear a leather jacket and be cool. Johnny Ramone cool. Instead, you say, “okay.” When he comes home the next day, he says, “I’ll buy you a guitar on one condition.” 20 | Perception

“Yeah?” Your heart skips a beat. “You have to take piano first, to prove to me and Mom that you’re serious.”

“I can do that.” They look at each other. “For three years.” No way. “But that’s forever!” “That’s what it’s gonna take. You need to learn the different musical notes and chords and things.” You’re still pouting. Your lower lip looks like a kiddie pool.“It’ll make learning guitar easier,” your Dad says. That doesn’t sound so bad. “Okay,” you say. “Deal.” Maybe you’ll even have some fun.

Three years turns out to be longer than you realized. At first, piano is interesting. Mrs. Chase is nice and her house is nice and her piano is super nice. Playing with two hands is fun, but playing two different things with two hands is hard. It becomes a struggle. One day you get mad and throw the piano workbook across the room. You call it a name you heard Mom say once on the phone with her sister in her room when she thought you and Haley weren’t listening but you were. Mom yells at you to not use that word. You yell that piano is stupid. You don’t practice the rest of the week. This time, Mrs. Chase isn’t so nice. The next day you pick the book back up and try again. Eventually you get it. The first recital is the worst thing you’ve ever experienced. Your stomach hurts like you ate toothpaste after drinking a carton of orange juice. You’re allowed to have your sheet music with you because you’re the youngest but you don’t want to be the only one but you also don’t want to memorize it and couldn’t memorize it and everything is happening really fast and all of a sudden it’s your turn and you play it. And it’s fine. It even sounds, pretty good. Not as good as Green Day, whose music you were heartbreakingly unable to play for the recital, but still good. Your grandparents came to support you. Your sister hugged you. There were cookies. Not the worst day ever. The next year is when you discover Queen. They have some songs for piano, but you can’t play any of them. You can barely play Ode to Joy. You can’t even sight read notes yet, you still write the name of the notes underneath the practice sheets that you don’t bring to Mrs. Chase’s. Now she’s started baking cookies for Haley and your mother when they come for lessons. Haley seems like she interested in learning to play the piano too. Spring 2020 | 21

Pretty soon you’re both taking lessons, and the best part is you’re no longer the youngest piano pupil. Your recital piece this year has two different melodies for the left and right hands. You do a good enough job. All everyone talks about is how cute Haley looked in her dress. The third recital means one thing and one thing only: it’s your last one. One recital every year means the third recital means it’s your third year. It’s simple math. You’re not just motivated by Johnny Ramone now. Billie Joe Armstrong is there too. Angus Young. Jimi Hendrix. They’re all there, cheering you on as you practice your last piece. It’s a doozie. You’re not allowed to bring the sheet music with you. It’s in a way bigger church. It’ll be recorded. You practice some more. The day comes and you’re dressed nice because it’ll all be worth it. You haven’t asked about the guitar in a while because you always got the same answer. Wait until it’s been three years. Three recitals later. The performance feels routine. You’ve done this before, on a stage like this, and you know that half the people out there don’t even care what your name is or how your piece sounds. But it’s got to sound good to you. That’s important. No one else will know if you’ve made a mistake, but you will. But you don’t. You play it well, and everybody claps. it feels nice to hear them clap for you. For your hard work. Mom and Haley drive home with Grammie and Grampie. You and Dad take his car. You feel weird in your recital clothes now that it’s all over. “Hey Dad?” “Yeah bud?” “Remember what we said when I first started playing Piano?” “Sure do.” “Is that still gonna happen?” He doesn’t answer right away, just keeps driving away from the church. Mom and Haley are close behind with Grammie and Grampie. You don’t say anything until, “Dad?” “Yeah?” “You just…missed our driveway.” It takes another 20 minutes of driving to get there. You don’t say anything. When you pull into the Guitar Center, you suddenly feel nothing but your own heartbeat. Your vision pulses with the rhythm. You walk inside and your brain breaks. Hanging on two of the four walls, floor to ceiling, are two solid walls of guitars. Not a single one looks the same. Some are brightly colored, others are dulled, wooden finishes. Some have four strings, some have more. Words fail you. You walk over and look at one just out of reach. 22 | Perception

It’s silver and sleek, the body has all kinds of jagged angles finished with a shine chrome finish. There are four numbers in a row with two smaller numbers right next to it. It looks like it will sound like Metallica and All That Remains combined. This is it. This is the one. You turn around, heart full of hope. Dad is already shaking his head. “You’ve gotta work your way up to something like that.” You nod glumly and walk towards him. Some guy with a gray beard and ponytail comes over. He shows you over to an area with guitars in boxes. They come with little amplifiers, so you can be super loud. He calls it a Fender. You pick the red one and completely forget about the Mr. Silver/ Sleek. This one is red and shiny and looks like Jimi Hendrix’s guitar and now maybe you’ll even sound like him. You hold the box in your lap on the ride home. Your face hurts from smiling. You unbox it as soon as you get home, even though you don’t have the first clue of what to do with it. Everyone ooohs and ahhhs appropriately. You don’t stop holding it all night. The first lesson is tough. Your finger tips hurt, a lot. Like, a lot a lot. And you can’t have your fingernails long on your left hand. And you have to press really really hard on the strings. And they make a buzzing sound which your teacher said isn’t good but you don’t know how to make it stop yet and it’s really hard. But so was piano. And you already know that practicing piano made it easier. So you practice every day. Sometimes for an hour, sometimes for more. Eventually you find a different teacher, because the first guy isn’t that good. The next guy is better. He likes Guns and Roses, too. You learn Iron Man. Smoke on the Water. Bad Moon Rising. Sweet Child O Mine Turns out classic rock is pretty good. He has you practicing different chord shapes, and switching between them. He makes you do it without looking. He’s also got a red Fender guitar, and you want to be as good as him. He knows Jimi Hendrix too. He chuckled when you asked. He said he was a good source of inspiration. You discover The Clash, and learn some of their songs. Fighting the law feels great. The law winning part washes right over you. The Ramones are next. Rock ‘N Roll High School, of course. Turns out they only use one chord shape. Hey, look at that! You know about chord shapes. It’s working. The practice is paying off. You can switch between chords easily now. You can learn songs you hear because the interest is a beautiful place. There are people who make videos online about how to play songs. Maybe you’ll even try writing one Spring 2020 | 23

of your own. Someday.

On one a bright summer day, a few years later, you take a break from playing and decide to walk your dog around the neighborhood. As you’re rounding the loop of the cul-de-sac at the bottom of the hill, you hear a kind of banging from one of the houses. A crash follows. You recognize the sound of the drums. You even know the house. You’ve played basketball with the kid who lives there. You had to give him a ride home once. His name is Brian. You walk over.