Got some speakers for my son for Christmas. He is fifteen one of the members of that generation that texts and prefers not to speak over missives of tweet length. I notice he and his homeboys dont talk in the car or when they were hanging out together in the basement. They are the silent generation with IPODS and Smarthphones shooting their safe missives devoid of emotional content. Parents are mostly the enemy so silence is a good thing to keep THE MAN in the dark.
But I worried about that silence. Some sort of lack of declaration. When I was fifteen I wasn hanging out in my basement with incense and black lights and rocking the house from below. It was my declaration with my rock posters and trips to the local head shop to load up on music and more exotic incense burners. My sister had just brought home some new music from college with strange punkish names like U2 and the Sex pistols and I started to know who I was in my pad in the basement.
So when my son inquired about speakers for Christmas I dug up an old receiver and bought some speakers for under the tree. He had always listened to his music in silence, an IPODEd warrior sliding along with the brood of the troubled youth. I was troubled but I found an outlet in declaring myself different. My music, my dress, my lifestyle gave me identity. So after Christmas I hooked up his speakers for him and he got a PEACE sign lamp from his aunt and set it on his desk next to the Buddha incense burner. We tested his speakers and he was amazed at the sound.
I went downstairs and started to watch television. The great silence gave way to thumping steady rock of Kanye and Eminem. We went to the store and when he returned he went right back upstairs and closed the door. The thumping music pounded through the house. I know I'll have to keep an eye on things, but I had to smile because the silence had been broken. Yeah. Rock on son.
http://www.billhazelgrove.com/
http://www.amazon.com/Rocket-Man-William-Elliott-Hazelgrove/dp/0982139241 A novel of independence for a father and a son
But I worried about that silence. Some sort of lack of declaration. When I was fifteen I wasn hanging out in my basement with incense and black lights and rocking the house from below. It was my declaration with my rock posters and trips to the local head shop to load up on music and more exotic incense burners. My sister had just brought home some new music from college with strange punkish names like U2 and the Sex pistols and I started to know who I was in my pad in the basement.
So when my son inquired about speakers for Christmas I dug up an old receiver and bought some speakers for under the tree. He had always listened to his music in silence, an IPODEd warrior sliding along with the brood of the troubled youth. I was troubled but I found an outlet in declaring myself different. My music, my dress, my lifestyle gave me identity. So after Christmas I hooked up his speakers for him and he got a PEACE sign lamp from his aunt and set it on his desk next to the Buddha incense burner. We tested his speakers and he was amazed at the sound.
I went downstairs and started to watch television. The great silence gave way to thumping steady rock of Kanye and Eminem. We went to the store and when he returned he went right back upstairs and closed the door. The thumping music pounded through the house. I know I'll have to keep an eye on things, but I had to smile because the silence had been broken. Yeah. Rock on son.
http://www.billhazelgrove.com/
http://www.amazon.com/Rocket-Man-William-Elliott-Hazelgrove/dp/0982139241 A novel of independence for a father and a son
