I learned to play the guitar this summer. Or, I started learning to play the guitar this summer, as it takes more than a month or two unless you are a music genius which I am not. Or, I started learning to play the guitar again this summer, as I took lessons when I was in sixth grade and then carted my guitar all over the country with me for ten years without playing it. Until this summer.

There is a clause in the Tassajara summer guidelines that expressly forbids the bringing of musical instruments, which deterred me but not everybody. We had to hike a good ways to be out of earshot of the valley - up the hill to the treehouse at first, but then once somebody came up to join us 'cause it sounded like so much fun from the dorms, so later around two bends in the creek just to be sure. Amy had a guitar and then we borrowed one either from Simon without asking but returned with a smile or Ayna if we could find her, and Dave who used to be in a band in Texas taught us the songs he knew, and Amy had some tabs in her guitar case. And we played.

In sixth grade my lessons involved lots of scales and songs like Greensleeves, with my straight-backed instructor scowling. My lessons this summer involved finding a comfy rock by the creek, then belting out Leonard Cohen or Willie Nelson or old union songs or whatever Dave could remember, and not feeling self-conscious because he was belting it out and good so you might as well sing along.

At some point in college I wrote a half-hearted song or three, which tended to change key midway because I had a very vague understanding of keys. At best. My understanding is not much better, but my ears are, and I think my songs.

At any rate, I can now play Brown Eyed Girl really loud, which I'm sure everybody appreciates. And the guitar is coming with me to San Francisco, regardless of what the guidelines say.