Sunday, May 11, 2008
I was too young to really know or understand what life was all about or had in store. But even at the tender age of 7 in 1955, I knew I wanted to play guitar.
At least I thought I did. Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley were already erupting into musical fireballs with Les Paul's brand-new electric weapon of mass construction. This young Detroit white boy instinctively connected with the earth-shattering primal scream — my black heroes' music of the soul.
I asked my hard-core disciplinarian father if I could get one of these newfangled rock 'n' roll guitars. He smiled and said, "Sure, Son. Keep your school grades up, do your household chores, get a job and buy one."
In a home where we truly did struggle to make ends meet, my father would certainly not allow such indulgences.
We were taught to purchase only the food and basic supplies we could responsibly utilize. We were taught to waste nothing, and not dare spend or live beyond our means.
The purveyor of that ethic is an endangered species today.
Because I was so young, dad did help me out. But I worked my tail off — cutting lawns, shoveling snow, washing cars, delivering two paper routes, catching and selling nightcrawlers.
I pumped gas and scrubbed gas station bathrooms. I did all sorts of hard, dirty work. Eventually, I bought that first guitar.
Actual affirmative action for honest dreamers includes an alarm clock and the will to excel. Plan B just doesn't get it.
So, right out of the gate, I learned that the first ingredients of the tried-and-true recipe for the American Dream are desire, discipline, pride and the dream itself.
With all of the above, any of us can be on the way to that wonderful thing we call the American Dream. It is truly unlimited.
Another essential ingredient: duty not only to one's self, but to family, friends, neighborhood, employer, state and country — to be in the "producer" column rather than the "receiver" column.
I learned early on that genuine effort would be rewarded. Conversely, laziness and excuse-making brought about self-inflicted hardships. As it should.
This vision of excellence was pounded into me by my mother and father, always pushing me to try as hard as I could, to learn from the results of effort and focus, and to learn from mistakes.
Another important factor was contained in one of my father's favorite adages: "Tell me who you go with and I will tell you what you are."
I tried every which way to weasel my way around his reasoning with responses like, "What about Jesus? He hung around sinners."
It took me a while to figure this one out, but it is true.
If I would have wasted my time with the herd of stoned hippies and their chimp-like idea of drug-infested "parties" where drooling, puking and dying were the order of the day, I am certain I would have failed in life just like they did.
Many brilliant people, many much more talented than I, wasted themselves to death with the abject insanity of drug, alcohol and tobacco abuse. It was mind boggling and heartbreaking. That it continues today is even more bizzarro.
Such a suicidal choice, in denial of the universal deadly evidence, is beyond comprehension. No American Dream for dead hippies.
So my ferocious rock 'n' roll band is jamming like madmen possessed in my 40th year of powerhouse touring.
Defying gravity is fun. Nothing has changed from the dreaming little boy with the guitar and bow and arrow way back when. He's just a little more uppity and confident that self-evident truths and the American Dream are connected at the hip.
Sometimes you give the world the best you've got and you get kicked in the teeth. Give the world the best you've got anyway.
Ted Nugent is a Waco-based musician and television show host. Contact him directly at tednugent.com.
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