Over the weekend, our second-oldest son, Taylor, engaged in a time-honored tradition. No, not watching every episode of The Andy Griffith Show while eating a stack of Oreos. That's just my personal tradition for weekends. No, I mean playing in his own band. Of all our kids, Taylor would've been the least likely to take up an instrument. Alex and Samantha are lucky enough to have been born with a natural musical sense and very nice singing voices. Of course, in another type of tradition, they never sing. Meanwhile, the youngest, Harrison, does do something he calls "Funky Dance # 5." He can also sing just about every commercial jingle you can imagine. If he can make a living dancing while, at the same time, singing "Less of you...more of life. Weight Loss Surgical Center," he's got it made. But, as it turns out, it is Taylor who loves music most.

A few years ago, he expressed an interest in playing the bass. His mother was delighted since she had played bass in the Wisconsin Youth Symphony. I was excited because I thought we were going to purchase one of those singing fish that hang on the wall. But, it wasn't that kind of bass. Or my wife's kind of bass. It was an electric bass Taylor requested. He played it a lot. Then, for my birthday I got an acoustic guitar. I had always imagined myself getting the family to settle in around a campfire while I whipped out my guitar and led everyone in a round of cowboy songs. I did take piano lessons but found that carrying even a spinet in my backpack did not lead to music, but muscle strain. More hernia than happiness. Well, as things turned out, Taylor kidnapped the guitar and has been playing it ever since. He has added an electric lead guitar to his collection. (He also has a ukulele but I have refused to wear the grass skirt, so that doesn't get strummed very often.) Anyway, Taylor plays his guitars almost all the time. You might think that would get annoying but, most of the time, it is great. In fact, when he has been out of town at various events, we miss the music.

Well, some of his friends...about a half dozen...decided they'd form a band. It's nothing super serious. Just for fun. Saturday night they met for the first time and worked out three songs. Taylor is a big Bob Dylan fan, so that makes up most of their repertoire. We were very excited about this seven piece orchestra of guitars and drums and, not only because they rehearsed at someone else's house. We've had some disagreement about what the name of this band should be. For awhile they were toying with some line of dialogue from Spiderman as the name. Something about pie. I forget. Then, they were going for something "angry" like "Days of Rage." But that just doesn't fit. These are pretty laid-back kids. Maybe "We're A Little Miffed" would be more appropriate. This morning on the weather I used the phrase Waves Of Cool. There's a name for them! Of course, I'd want to be paid for the usage of the term. Just check the fine print of your birth certificate, Taylor.

It took me back to my brothers' garage band days. Now, they weren't playing rock and roll. This was back when Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass were big and The Baja Marimba Band was cranking out hits. One brother, Craig, played the trumpet. Another, Mark, was on drums. They added a couple of trombones, another trumpet, a pianist and bass. Craig's big moment was playing the opening solo on Lonely Bull. When they recorded the song, a bunch of us got to be in the studio, cheering and yelling "Ole." Being in Wisconsin, it took us all awhile to say that word as a cheer and not some guy's name like Ole Hanson. The record these high school age kids made was called What's New and it was great. To this day, I pull it out of the rack and give it a spin. Back when I did goofy news stories, I used their music quite a bit. For example, they had a song called Frenchy Brown that was perfect for any story featuring pigs. I remember the band playing outside and the whole neighborhood, in fact, several neighborhoods, crowding the street to listen. They won every talent show they were in and, eventually, made a pretty good extra amount of dough playing all over the area.

After a time, they added some vocals to their show. One trombonist sang This Guy's in Love. The girls would go crazy. Then, the bass player started singing Where Is Love from the musical, Oliver. He sang it in an odd breathy way. I thought it sounded like he needed his inhaler but, again, females swooned. (Remember, everything is relative. This was Wisconsin, after all, where Ray Nitschke was our state's version of Justin Timberlake.) Frankly, I thought my brother Mark was the best singer in the bunch and he finally got his chance with a song called Never Ending Song of Love.

The only downside of this whole musical escapade was the pressure it put on me. Now, our oldest brother, Randy, was not in the band but he was an all-state wrestler, a great dancer and the world's nicest person so his place in the hierarchy was secure. For a punk like me, however, there was some tension. When I was in fifth-grade, my brothers were making a triumphant return to our local talent show. They were not competing. They were the special guest stars. Well, unbeknownst to me, they had signed me up to play the piano in the competition. I am not being modest when I say that I had no business competing. I couldn't memorize anything so my dad took the three songs I was going to play and copied them small enough to fit on one piece of cardboard. Then, he wrote reminders on the edges like "SMILE" and "HAVE FUN" and "YOU ARE A DORK." I think that last one was from one of my brothers. Anyway, I didn't even get an honorable mention. It was the end of an era. The Nichols Family, who one of my grade school teachers had once compared to the OSMONDS!, no longer ruled the AFS Talent Show. I've been dealing with that humiliation ever since.

I don't think Taylor will face that kind of trouble. My personal professional achievements have set the bar so incredibly low, all of the kids will do much better. Who am I kidding? They already have. Even Funky Dance # 5 is light years beyond my reach.