FIRST PERSON

to when I messed up a song — with an Elvislike, curled upper lip of disdain and slightly squinty eyes.

The look made me chuckle, just as it had whenever his dad looked at me in that way. I wondered what else my friend might have passed on to his son.

My friend loved music, and his playing stood out. I hope his son one day shares his passion and skill.

At Christmas, I gave the gift of music to the boy: a small electronic keyboard. That was all — no music books, no singalongs, just 12 distinct instrument sounds (and a drum machine), which will spark the generational fire if it resides within the boy.

If so, I warned his mom, he’ll probably jam his rear end off, just as his dad used to.

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with her husband, Mom will get to hear music played live, up-close and personal.

There’s a chance that the boy will play with the keyboard and lose interest, but I’m betting that doesn’t happen.

I'm going to give him a few months to mess around with it, learn to make sounds and maybe develop a song or two.

After that, if I get a thumbs-up from his

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A submission used becomes the property of The Dispatch; it cannot be reproduced elsewhere without our permission. mom, I’ll take a guitar over. Then we’ll jam, just as his dad and I did.

Unlike his dad, though, the boy won’t need a ride home after rehearsal because his car stopped working.

I’ll have to wait a dozen more years until the boy drives to see whether his dad passed along his luck with cars.