CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE: LIFE STILL STRUMMING ALONG FOR POP THE GUITAR GOD

Can anybody recommend a good agent? My father's decided to become a guitar god.

I was informed of this the last time I headed north to visit the folks.

It seems Pop, who's 73, finally took a neighbor up on his offer of free guitar lessons as repayment of neighborly kindnesses over the years.

His repertoire so far is limited to scales and a recognizable version of "Mary Had a Little Lamb."

But he's ambitious.

"Once I get good at this, I'm growing my hair, getting an earring and a tattoo and going on the road," Pop said.

First I suggested he call the cable company and ask them to block MTV.

Then I suggested that he might want to start growing his hair long now instead of waiting until he masters more than three chords.

My father's musical talent may be growing, but his hairline has receded.

Actually, it turned tail and ran about 30 years ago, and no one's seen it since.

But that's another column.

Now we're working on band names.

My sister, who teaches high school and has at least heard of some of the bands favored by Generation X, suggested "Geezer."

She gets all the good lines.

Pop had been using one of his teacher's guitars and was nosing around for a good used model.

Aunt B. and her Magic Attic came to the rescue once again. It seems my late Uncle J. had played the guitar, and now Pop's all fixed up with a very nice Sears Silvertone.

Several years ago, my brother took guitar lessons from said neighbor. He was about 11 at the time.

The guitar was actually Jim's second instrument. When he was about 7 or so, Aunt B. and Uncle J. gave Jim a junior drum set.

Jim never mastered a rim shot, though God knows he certainly tried, and for months Mom and Pop kept asking each other what they'd done to make my aunt and uncle mad.

Jim actually never mastered the guitar, either, but then he was never really the guitar god type.

I guess Pop will have to be the musician in the family.

Actually, I think Pop would make a pretty good folk/rock/pop/suburban angst guitar icon.

Groupies wouldn't be a problem. He'd probably threaten to a call a truant officer.

The only drugs he's interested in are his heart pills.

He could drive the tour bus himself in a pinch, but it better have cruise control and power locks, or he's liable to get a little testy.

He wouldn't tear up any hotels. It might interfere with his naptime.

It's nice to know that there's a lifetime of learning out there, and that, even after a few setbacks, life still strums along.

Now if I can just keep Pop out of the mosh pit.

Peggy O'Farrell is a copy editor for the Southeast Missourian.