How to Play a Guitar, "What’s Your Name"?
My young son asked me how did I learn how to play a guitar? And why did I? The question sent me back a decade to New York City and a different life…
I had to change trains at 57th street to catch the express train to Brooklyn where I attended high school. I was standing on the platform waiting for the train when she walked down the stairs and stood just ten feet from me. She was looking down the track so I couldn’t see her face well but the short glimpse I got when she turned was intriguing. When the express train came we both got on the same car, I made sure of that and tried to make it seem coincidental. I sat in the back so I could watch her as she read a book as we headed downtown. She got off at 14th street and as the train pulled away I watched her walk away.
The next day I waited at 57th again and watched for her and sure enough she came daintily down the stairs. I had been there for half an hour and passed up two express trains by then. We rode the train together again and I felt some kind of connection even though it was dumb and she was completely unaware of me. The song “what’s your name” kept running through my head but I never had the courage to ask.
This went on for weeks, and finally I got up the courage to just smile at her as she entered the station. And oh God, she smiled back, oh man she knew I existed. My day was made, but she sat on the other side of the car and again read her damn book. I wanted to go up to her but I was frozen to my seat. What would I say? “Pardon me but I’ve been watching you for a month and I think I love you”? That was really too dumb.
So each day we went to the same routine sitting in the same seats, never speaking but once in a while communicating with shy smiles. June was approaching and school would be out and I knew I had to do something because I probably wouldn’t see her again until September, but what to do? Buy her flowers? Oh yeah, great idea. What would I say “pardon me whatever your name is but I’ve brought you some flowers because uh, I don’t know”. Maybe get her a card? No, that was another really dumb idea. All my ideas were dumb because I knew would never act on one.
Finally on my last day of school I was determined to ask her name and maybe to go somewhere. I got some backbone from my best friend after he finished teasing me, he urged me to at least talk to her. He was right; I was ready, nervous and scared but determined. I watched the stairs and let the express trains pass but she never showed up. Maybe her school was already over for the summer. I wanted to wait longer, maybe she was late but I was late for school, and I almost didn’t go.
Summer came and I wondered where she lived, what she was doing, did she ever think of me? What should I do to fill a long lonely summer? I began to take walks around 57th Street and Central Park almost every day. I drifted through a dream, I’d walk around the lake and through the walks among the trees and fields of central park; and up and down the busy streets filled with expensive shops and hotels. Sometimes I’d stop and buy a hot dog for lunch while I walked and who knows perhaps I’d spot her somewhere doing whatever it is she does. Somehow it made me feel better and closer to her; she almost certainly walked these same streets before and just maybe she would again. I began to learn how to play a guitar asking my Father for advice. At night I would practice until I could play “what’s your name” almost decently. I almost couldn’t wait for school to start so I could just see her again.
Finally September came and I was waiting at the 57th Street station again. I waited, let express trains go and waited until I had to leave. Everyday for the first two weeks I waited but she never showed up. I never saw her again; I know it was silly to feel like that over what was really nothing. “What’s your name” ran through my mind all the way to school everyday all year. I was actually getting better at guitar and I would sing the damn song and accompany myself, I’m alone anyway. It gave me a strange kind of comfort. I couldn’t really be broken hearted because there was nothing, but I missed her anyway.
I did finally graduate and sometimes when I walked around the city I thought I saw her but no, it’s was just a poor imitation of her. The next September I left for college and once in a while I would remember her as I sang that song, playing my guitar and fantasized what might have been if I wasn’t so young and shy. There were a lot of distractions for me then, a new college, new freedoms, new girls, a whole new chapter of life. It’s still a poignant memory for me but I really couldn’t tell you what she looked like anymore.
“Well son” I said, “there was this girl see”, “Dad” he said exasperated as only a six year old can be. “Huh? Oh yeah, well one summer I was bored sitting around when Grandpa came to me and said”…