You have a nice voice, Aaron

3 on Thursday

A weekly newsletter sharing songs, stories, and other things I’m working on.

If you’re just joining us, we’re taking a little break from the usual three things while I test out a memoir-in-progress on you. It’s a collection of fictional letters from my 15- and 16-year-old self to “Daniel,” a made-up person who’s really a combination of several musicians who influenced me growing up.

Thanks for letting me try it out on you.

December 14, 1996

Dear Daniel,

Something just happened that I have to tell you about because I can’t stop thinking about it.

So, I’ve been practicing guitar in the basement after school, like I told you, and I’ve finally learned to play “Take Me Home, Country Roads” while singing at the same time. And not just a boring downward strum. It’s a more complicated one that sounds better and way less “beginner.”

But that’s not the part I’m excited to tell you about.

You know how I told you I started going into the basement because I was feeling so self-conscious about singing in the living room?

Well, nobody ever comes down in the basement. We live in this hundred-year-old house, and all that’s down there is my dad’s office, the laundry, and the deep freezer where we keep venison burger (we hunt deer, I hope that’s okay. I know you’re probably a vegetarian, or at least I heard that a lot of Californians are). So, in the basement I always feel more confident to play and sing because I know nobody’s listening.

Sometimes I’ll hear the creaky staircase, though. Usually it’s my mom coming to switch over the laundry or grab some venison burger to start frying for supper. But today, guess what? After hearing the creaky stairs, I didn’t hear the laundry or the deep freezer. I heard a knock on the office door. And it was my dad.

We haven’t talked much about me quitting hockey, and I don’t see him a whole lot except at the dinner table. He usually has a lot of meetings at church or is helping somebody with an electrical problem at their house (he’s an electrician). Maybe my mom asked him to come check on me or something, since I’ve been going down to the basement every day after school. I don’t really do a whole lot else.

But anyway, he peeked his head in and asked me what I was working on. I told him about the song and then—I’m not even kidding—he asked me to play it for him! I didn’t tell him that the whole reason I go down in the basement is so nobody hears me. What was I supposed to do, though? I started sweating right away, and I know my face turned red, but I just played and sang the way I’d been practicing. I didn’t look up once. I just stared at the book my mom bought me with the chords over the words.

It felt like the song would never end, but when I finally finished, my dad said something I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

“You have a nice voice, Aaron.”

Maybe that doesn’t sound like much, I don’t know. But we don’t usually give compliments around here because people are afraid you might get a big head. That’s about the worst thing that could happen to a person. Even worse than death. So, I hope I said thanks, but I don’t really remember much after he said that. He probably went back upstairs or reminded me about supper soon. But I’ve just been living in that moment for so long that I had to tell you. I don’t think I’ve gotten a compliment from anyone, let alone my dad, in a long time. I feel kind of stupid for how much it means to me, but it does. It makes me want to learn more and get better. After supper, I went straight back into the basement to keep practicing.

Love,
Aaron

Memoir in Progress

Earlier chapters:
Chapter 1: Quitting Hockey →
Chapter 2: Quitting Hockey (for Real) →
Chapter 3: The Guitar Lesson →
Chapter 4: I hated singing in church →
Chapter 5: We didn’t have a TV →

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