My Father's Day Gift

I like playing music. I am pretty good at the piano, fairly decent at the guitar, quite capable at the tenor saxophone, and pretty bad--but not inept--at the harmonica and violin.

I decided to expand my horizons. I wanted to learn something unusual, something that very few people know how to play. My options included the kazoo, the accordion, the harp, the autoharp, the mandolin, or the ukulele.

The kazoo is ridiculous. It sounds like a wounded goose and requires about as much skill as is necessary to run for Congress.

The accordion isn't as rare as you think (or as it probably should be). Furthermore, my dog howls unmercifully whenever an accordion is played. I don't need that.

The harp is too expensive and too feminine.

The autoharp is not too expensive but it's extremely feminine.

The mandolin is awesome, but decent ones are expensive and it looks really hard (not that I'm afraid of a challenge, but the cheapest ones at Guitar Center are around $250).

This left the ukulele.

I was well aware that I would endure ridicule for taking up the uke. First of all, it looks like a novelty toy (at least the cheap ones do, and that would be my first purchase--in case I didn't like it). Second of all, people think that it's just a knock-off guitar--though it isn't. A guitar has six strings, and a ukulele has four. Chords are not similar, nor is the sound.

One thing I learned immediately is that there are many different kinds of ukuleles, and they range in price from $40 to over $1,000. As I did not know if I would like it, I opted for a cheaper soprano ukulele (the kind that most people picture in their heads).

So on Saturday, my wife asks me if I really want a ukulele for Father's Day. She seemed to think that I was joking, as if no one in his right mind would want to learn the ukulele.

I told here that I did, and we headed for the Guitar Center.

At the Guitar Center, there was a limited selection. There was only one model, and of that model, there was only one ukulele. I took it down and tinkered with it. The first thing I noticed was how odd the tuning was compared to a guitar; but it sounded neat, and I figured that no one I know has or can play one, so it would be pretty cool to learn it.

I said, "I'll take it. I don't know anyone who plays one, so it will be something different."

That's when the salesman began teasing me. He laughed that I was the first person to buy a uke from the store, and that he appreciated having this to tell everyone.

That's when I figured that he doesn't work on commission. Here I am, a patron about to make a purchase, and he's mocking me. To make matters worse, my wife started teasing me.

I said, "Hey, it's not like I feel the need to pick up women anymore."

To which, she replied, "Yeah, but don't you want to keep around the woman you've got?"

Well, I persisted and got my ukulele. I brought it home, tuned it up, and searched for some ukulele sites on the internet. I found a few and began playing. It was a bit tricky because the neck is so small, but I stuck to it for about three hours until I was playing pretty well for a novice (this evaluation has been seconded by my wife). On Sunday, I played for another hour or so, and today I putzed around on it for about a half hour. So far, my best songs are "Help Me, Rhonda," by The Beach Boys, "I Wanna Be Like You," from Disney's The Jungle Book, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World," arranged by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole (you heard it in "Finding Forrester" and on that old eToys commercial), and "When I'm Sixty-Four," by The Beatles.

I really don't care that people laugh when I tell them that I got a ukulele and that I'm going to get good at it. Most people can't play anything. If they want to deride me for seeking something different, something relaxing and fun, then go ahead.