Good Luck with That

 

 

By Amy Coward

 

I felt kind of out of place as we walked in. The bar was dark and dingy with concrete floors and walls. It looked like a converted garage (and may have been for all I knew). We were clearly the oldest people in the place, my husband, my friends and I. And I felt a little old as I winced at the loud music. I was also a little short on “club” attire so I’m sure I stood out as the mom in the room. I was attending my first battle of the bands – rock bands – and my son was competing. I had promised him I would be there to cheer him on.

I never really thought I would be a rock band parent. A marching band parent maybe, but not a rock band. You just never know where this parenthood thing will take you. I always dreamed about my kids growing up, going to college, getting married…you know, the more traditional choices. But surprise, surprise, they have a mind of their own! When my son chose to postpone college and start a band, I’m sure I said something like, “That’s great, honey!” But boy was I worried.  Now mind you, I’m a professional worrier so it doesn’t take much for me to worry, but a band…yikes.

My son learned to play guitar in middle school and even attended an arts school for high school so music has been important to him for some time. It’s not that I didn’t realize this or appreciate how talented he was. But I also know that the world does not appreciate or reward those in music or the arts the way they do other professionals – at least not in compensation. Musicians often piece together a career with performing, teaching or even other jobs just to pay the bills. It can be uncertain at best. When I told others about his plans, I was met with skepticism that matched my own. One person actually said, “Good luck with that.” Admittedly, I thought the same thing at times.

Once the band was formed and things were moving forward, my husband and I tried to be supportive. Even though I had my reservations, I didn’t want to be the parent that shoots down a dream. We put the band’s bumper stickers on our cars. We handed out business cards. We even drove to his gigs in North Carolina, Georgia and here in Columbia in some interesting bars and restaurants. (I use the word interesting loosely.) The performances were always late at night – 10:00 or 11:00  (way past my bedtime) and I would have to down a couple of Diet Cokes just to stay awake. Once there, though, I actually enjoyed the music. I was quick to applaud, whistle and even dance (much to my son’s surprise, I imagine) because the music was really great. Other band members’ parents would often come as well and we would talk about how great the band was. We would often talk about how we hoped they would make it, that they would be discovered.

On the drive home, however, my practical side would take over again and I would worry some more. “What will he do if the band doesn’t make it?” “Why doesn’t he just go to college and get a degree just in case?” We moms are used to fixing things and giving advice. We’re used to being the boss. But what we forget is that when they grow up, they actually prefer to do what THEY want to do and have their parents stay out of it.

I had to come to grips with this new world order. I had to start reminding myself that this life plan of his, whether temporary or permanent, was his decision. These were his dreams, not mine.

As the months passed, I became more accepting of this band thing. My son has shown me that he is smart and talented. He will find his own way in this world (even without my help). And when I enter a room and hear him play his guitar and sing, I know why he has chosen music. He is clearly in his element.

So wish me luck as I try to let go, cheer him on and not worry. I’m sure in the days and months ahead I will have moments of uncertainty and concern. I must repeat my mantra, “He’ll be okay. Don’t worry.”

I know. I know. Good luck with that.

 

 

 

Amy Coward is a public relations professional in Columbia, SC. When she is not managing the madness of event planning at Palmetto Health Foundation, she is turning her empty nest upside down looking for fun and finding it. 

 

 

 

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