When I was 13, I had dreams of being a rock and roll star. For my birthday, I asked my parents for a guitar, and lessons to play it. My parents hired a staid instructor, and I was uninspired by the folk tunes she was teaching me. She was clueless about Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, Kiss... even Black Sabbath! Six months later, having developed no appreciable skills at picking a riff or a lick, I gave it up.

“Success seems to be largely a matter of hanging on after others have let go.”
—William Feather

I developed a love for classical music while I was in college. When I graduated, I started taking piano lessons. I didn’t own a piano, and couldn’t afford to buy one (back before cheap electronic keyboards), so I found a variety of places around town where I could practice: churches, schools, and friend’s houses. Six months later, my work schedule started making regular practice difficult, and I quit... but with the intention of getting back to it... which I never did.

I think back to those days and wonder if I had given it just a little more time, could I have developed enough skill to sustain my interest, maybe?

Maybe? Only maybe? Yes, because something else was missing.

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