Forsgren: My grandma, my music and me
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It’s an inherent flaw of being human that, too many times, we fail to realize how big an impact an individual has had on our lives until it’s too late to thank that person. We think there will always be another day to tell them how important they are to us. Unfortunately, we often put it off until the days run out.
That happened to me this week. My grandma passed away earlier this week, and while I was able to say goodbye, I was unable to tell her how massive an impact she had on my life. Part of that is down to the fact that I didn’t realize how big a part of me Grandma is until very recently.
It goes a little like this: When I was a kid, my family (aunts, uncles, cousins, what have you) would gather at Grandma’s house to watch “Hee Haw.” Sure, that’s a program I wouldn’t be caught dead watching now, but back in the day, I was mesmerized by the musical performances. And what really hooked me was “Pickin’ and Grinnin’” with Roy Clark and Buck Owens.
Now, I know Clark and Owens are lightyears away from the music I’m interested in now, but I vividly remember the feelings that flooded over me watching those two guys play and crack jokes. They were the two coolest cats I had ever seen, and what they were doing looked more fun than any fun I had ever experienced. I immediately knew that I HAD to play guitar. I had to be like Roy and Buck. I had no choice.
“Pickin’ and Grinnin’” may have planted the seed of my guitar obsession, but it was another experience I had at Grandma’s that set me on the path to becoming a full-blown rock guitar fanatic. See, back then, you couldn’t get MTV out in the boondocks where I lived without a satellite dish the size of the planet destroyer cannon on the Death Star. My father wouldn’t spring for a dish (and thank the Maker for that, otherwise my imagination would never have developed), but Grandma had cable.
The process usually went like so: I would nag Mom and Dad to let me go stay the weekend with Grandma; I’d spend all day being spoiled; then I’d stay up late to watch MTV. This is how I initially caught sight of Van Halen. It was the video for “Hot for Teacher,” you know, the one where the band rocks out while a group of Van Halen Mini-Mes drool over their gorgeous educator?
Anyway, I was struck by the hot teacher lady, but what really piqued my interest was the scene where Eddie Van Halen walks across tabletops while shredding his guitar. Once again, I was taken in by how much fun Eddie appeared to be having. From that point on, I wanted nothing more than to play killer riffs and gnarly solos in a rockin’ band.
That first Van Halen sighting led me down the path to becoming a metalhead. From then on, I craved music with more pronounced and obnoxious guitar playing. I found the sound I was looking for in the music of bands like Megadeth, Anthrax, In Flames, Lamb of God and Killswitch Engage. So, if I’ve ever annoyed you with my loud, abrasive tunes, I guess you have my Grandma to thank.
But when I think really hard and delve into my memory, I realize that it goes much deeper than that. My grandma loved music. She was always singing as she flitted around the house, doing chores and keeping me in line. Grandma’s house is where I had my first encounter with a musical instrument, her old organ. In fact, it’s possible that Grandma is responsible for engendering my love of music in the first place.
It’s hard to lose people you love. It’s even harder when you feel guilty for not spending a lot of time with them while they were still in this realm of existence. But I feel such a debt of gratitude to my Grandma for opening doors to a world I LOVE spending time in. If I didn’t love music, and didn’t play guitar, I honestly don’t know if I could even function day to day. I’ve lost track of how many times playing metal music really loud or banging out a tune on my guitar has saved my life. For that gift, I am, and always will be, eternally grateful.
