Down memory lane, part I

All roads lead to the guitar, that's what I say. Who knew that thirty years' worth of dilettante knowledge could come in handy if you just found the right thing to bring it all to life?

All right, the theoretical math itself hasn't come in handy yet, though there's something to that old saw about learning how to study one thing and then being able to study anything. But my two summers at math camp were like a release from the bubble of high school in more ways than one. I don't remember any of my friends in high school being particularly into music, even the band geeks, but at math camp, everyone brought a few cassette tapes. (I am old.) And since Dad only raised me on classical and we only had cable TV for a year (in which I watched much MTV), this is where I really first encountered Simon and Garfunkel, Clapton, Veruca Salt, Lynyrd Skynyrd, U2, Liz Phair... look, it was an eclectic bunch of nerds, all right? For that matter, much of my earlier rock exposure had come via my brother's years at math camp.

What's more, the influence of math camp and my math camp friends led me to start off college as a physics major. A worse idea, in retrospect, could scarcely have been found. Even now, ensconced in English, I do not have what you would call a theoretical mind. I'd have been far better off as an engineer, and the proof of this is that the only thing I was exceptionally good at was the lab component of Physics 15b, Harvard's weirdly named intro course in electricity & magnetism.

Many's the happy hour I spent sprawled out on a dorm floor, sometimes with the door propped open so the smoke and steam from the soldering iron wouldn't touch off the dorm fire alarm. I fried a capacitor once. Let me tell you, that's an unforgettable smell. Years later when my dad's pre-amp blew (with a huge dramatic noise and a roomful of smoke), I diagnosed the problem by smell alone. My friend used to hassle me about taking the time to color-code my wires and trim them all short enough to make the circuits pretty. Our final class project was to build a lamp. I still have it. It doesn't look like a lamp, since it's just a circuit board with a bulb hanging off, but it has a little dimmer and everything.

When I say "I," what I mean is that it's in my parents' basement. My unhandy dad was charmed by the nice red toolbox they gave us in lab and wanted to hang on to it. You know, to save me the inconvenience, since I move often. Well, no more, dad. This time I'm coming for my wire clippers at the very least. And if I end up taking this class at the Chicago Guitar School, I'm coming for the voltmeter, the resistors, the soldering iron... heck, I'm bringing the whole thing back, and damn the airlines!