Song
By Disherona
He strummed his acoustic guitar, trying to match the notes that were resonating in his spirit, and the lyrics that repeated in his mind.
Sitting on the sofa in his man cave, with a cold drink and his a legal pad laid open on the table, a #2 pencil clenched between his teeth and a white pearlized pick in his right hand, he strummed, and hummed. He made notes and and corrected them. He was in the process of writing a new song for the woman he loved.
He knew his music wasn't comparable to Mozart, or even Nickleback, and his lyrics weren't in the same league as Shakespeare. Not even close, but he was passionate about the music he wrote. He wrote songs out of an overflow of what he was feeling, and his feelings ran deeper than people knew. He knew people thought his music was amateurish, and his lyrics mundane, but both were genuine and he wanted to share them.
It was an obsession for him. It was the loadstone of his memories, feelings, passions and was the therapy to help him work through his feelings. Music was the one thing he could go back to as a means of expressing himself, distracting himself, and sometimes consoling himself
His mind wandered to the affection he had always had for music. When he was young his house was full of music. His father and sister would accompany each other on guitar and sing together while he colored in a picture in a Scooby Doo coloring book and his mother prepared dinner for the family. It was a happy time for him, and he treasured those memories.
Emily died at the age of 15. She was hit by a car when she was riding her bike over to tell Randy to come home. On that day the music was silenced. His father stopped playing altogether and got angry with Randy when his son asked him to show him how to play the guitar, or to sing with him. The guitars were put up in the attic, and shortly afterward, his father packed his bags and moved out of the house. Randy was 8.
A few months before he turned 12, Randy asked his mom if he could take up an instrument. He wanted to learn to play some of the songs he heard on the radio, or saw on MTV.
Maria Disher was thrilled a the idea of Randy playing a musical instrument, and offered to bring down his sister's guitar. "I think Emily would have wanted you to have it."
Randy rolled his eyes in the way that pre-teens do, and answered defiantly. "I don't want that old thing. I want an electric guitar."
"I think that might be a little too expensive, Randy." Maria said, apologetically.
"I can earn the money," Randy offered. And he could. He was a hard worker and was good at saving for the things that he wanted.
"If you want a new guitar, you have to learn to play an instrument." Maria caught her son's attention, and continued, "If you do that, I promise, I will find a way to get you a guitar."
Randy surprised his mother by taking piano lessons. His mother thought it might have been because he wanted to learn the basics of music which could be transferred and applied to several instruments, but it was actually because he thought that the piano teacher was pretty, and wanted to spend time with her.
In the 8th grade, he joined the school band. He played the flute and marched in parade formation with 79 other students who were some of the most real, the most fun and the nerdiest people in Macallan Jr. High, and Randy fit right in with them.
Around the time he turned 17, he dropped out of the marching band and started his own rock band, The Randy Disher Project. It began as an impromptu band, born out of necessity when his Eagle Scout service project was looming near, and out of desperation he coordinated some classmates, some of whom he knew, and some he knew by reputation of being musical, or at least having access to a musical instrument and a sense of rhythm.
The official name of the group was The Randy Disher Eagle Scout Service Project to Refurbish the Music Room of JFK High School.
He formed the band and presented a service project by which they would put on a show in order to raise money and buy supplies to refurbish the school's music room, which was had been in disrepair for some time. Rehearsal usually consisted of planning for their big break and dreaming about fame, fortune and groupies while they tuned their instruments, and occasionally practiced a song or two.
Much of the discussion revolved around changing the name to reflect the personality of the group and the style of music they would play. Due to the fact that the members of the group could never agree on a name, it remained "The Randy Disher Project" for the year or so that they practiced together, until the young men moved on to different directions in their lives.
So, Randy Disher; music nerd from San Diego, turned frontman for a service project rock band, turned Detective in the San Francisco Police Department, turned newly sworn in police chief of Summit, New Jersey - was happy with his life. He lived in a nice community and was with the woman of his dreams. Life was good, and he wanted to express it in a song.
Unfortunately, there were very few words that rhymed with Sharona, unless he just added "na" to the words at the end of a verse. He knew he had it in him to make the song work, even if he had to shoehorn a rhyme into the last chorus, so he strummed and he hummed and he rocked and he wrote.
Sharona was standing in the doorway, listening. "That song sounds familiar."
"No, it's new. You wanna hear what I have so far?" Randy asked, his expression was that of the open hopefulness that it usually held.
"Of course," Sharona answered, smiling in anticipation.
Randy began strumming again, rocking to the rhythm of his music as if he were in a religious trance. This went on for some time. He strummed, picked, and thumped the side of his guitar in what was perhaps the longest song intro in history, although the intro to last years' "Happy Birthday" serenade came in at a close second.
Sharona settled in next to Randy, a hot mug of tea between her hands, warming them, and she listened with appreciation, and noted that Randy had thrown himself completely into the song. When they became a couple, she realized that she would have to resign herself to the idea that most of the things that Randy did, he did with that same enthusiasm.
She also realized that, like herself, Randy wasn't much concerned with what others thought of him. He was the most genuine person she had ever known, and she loved him for that, and didn't mind that the song he was currently serenading her with sounded a lot like "Lola" by the Kinks.
The End
A/N I'm still working on Saves the Date, (new chapter underway) and Return of SF (new chapter underway)
Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback. :)