In most circles, people consider me a smart guy. I graduated from college. I served my country as an officer in the U.S. Navy. I've been in management with some of the country's most successful companies. Lately, though, those in my immediate family have come to share in my dirty little secret… I am a smooth jazz moron.
It's my wife who holds all the expertise on the topic of smooth jazz in our house. That in itself is not embarrassing; no one is an authority on everything. I was raised on a steady diet of southern rockers and blues men, and initially began listening to smooth jazz as a way to share my wife's interest. I confess that I enjoy a vast majority of the music that is my wife's passion. I happily go with her to concerts and listen to new CD's with her as we drive here and there as a family.
The embarrassment comes with the realization that despite having listened to smooth jazz for years now, I can't identify the artists who play such great music. My wife takes great joy in my discomfort when she asks, “Do you know who this is?” I don't. Trust me. If every musician but one retired simultaneously, I'd still guess wrong.
Even worse, my six-year-old son has picked up his mother's ear for music. With a mixture of pride for him and shame for me, I listen as he discerns Michael Lington from Dave Koz, Rick Braun from Chris Botti, and so on. He knows what music he likes and he asks for it whenever he gets in the car…and he can't be fooled. As for me, I am quite easily fooled.
I've tried everything. I ask questions. I even pay attention to the music in the car when my wife isn't looking. I just can't seem to get it. I'm like the guy who has a piece of black electrical tape on his VCR because he can't set the clock. Following the theory that even a blind squirrel finds an acorn once in a while, I've taken to guessing, “Richard Elliot” every time my wife quizzes me. One day, I'll be right. I'll still be a moron… but for that one brief, shining moment… I'll be right.
- Earl Schendell
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