Commentary

It took some bravery to walk into the music store a couple of weeks ago, on the eve of my 40th birthday, and tell the owner I wanted to sign up for drumming lessons. Especially when his immediate response was, “Okay…but can I ask WHY you want to do this now?”

The answer is complicated. It’s something I’ve wanted to do my entire life, but I’ve always been afraid to. However, a combination of the last gasp of adolescence I’m having before the big 4-0, almost being killed in a car accident in July (so I now find nothing except cancer and flying in a car that lands in the trees scary), the Wilco song “Heavy Metal Drummer” and the fact that a friend of mine is starting a White Stripes tribute band and wants me to be Meg have given me the courage to actually do it.

The good news is the teacher is cool. (This was a surprise to me, as all the other guys who work in the store seem genuinely terrified at the mere sight of a grown woman.) The very first thing he said to me was, “My mother plays drums,” and he appears to be older than me so I took that as a good sign.

The other good news is that the first lesson went okay and the second lesson went better. This is a take-one-day-at-a-time venture, or as the Dread Pirate Roberts said to Westley in The Princess Bride, “Sleep well, Westley, I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.” But each Tuesday for the past few weeks, I’ve held my breath and gave it a shot. Maybe that’s the true lesson I’m supposed to learn on my 40th birthday…just give it a shot.

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