Lindberg - Punk Rock Dad

PARENTS NIGHT

We recently had parents night at our kids school, which is usually a lot of fun for a punk rock dad. This is when the school has the parents come in so they can prove to you theyve actually been teaching your kids something and not just locking them up in a closet somewhere after youve dropped them off. Daughter number twos preschool class had a project for Fathers Day where each four-year-old child came to class dressed like their dad at work, in his own actual clothes, to have their picture taken by the teacher. The other dads and I filed in and politely shuffled by the row of our daughters portraits, which were neatly lined up on a table beneath the chalkboard in the classroom. Most of the little girls in the pictures were wearing a suit and tie like their businessman or lawyer dads, some were in fireman or paramedic uniforms, and a few were in construction workers or plumbers clothes. Last in line, on the very end, was my daughter, proudly holding my beaten-up electric guitar, which was painted in silver sparkles, emblazoned with various offensive decals, and held together by duct tape. She was wearing my torn up jeans and black hi-tops, her hair was tucked up under the tattered green and white trucker hat I always wear, and draped across her tiny frame was my faded red T-shirt that looked like it had a Nike logo across the front, but instead of the company name, it said RIOT!

Needless to say, our picture got the most comments out of the class projects, with the dads chortling and guffawing and pointing it out to other guys in line. At that moment I wasnt sure if I should be proud or if I should punch someone.

This is pretty much the case whenever the parents get together for an official or unofficial school function. At PTA meetings, award ceremonies, T-ball games, and Christmas parties, the first question out of everyones mouth when you meet someone new in the parenting world is, So what do you do? The acceptable and consistently offered responses are usually, Im a lawyer, or stockbroker, or account executive. Its usually some very official, very important-sounding position at a major law firm or huge corporation involved in world domination. When I have to respond with what I do for a living, it becomes a game of Twenty Questions, because the truth is Id give anything to give one of those answers. I dont want to stand out or receive any extra attention. I wish I could just say Im in plastics or software development or something that sounds solid and stoic. Instead, since I dont like to lie or play games, I swallow quickly and murmur that Im a musician.

Now when most people hear this they will usually think one of three things: (A) youre a loser who plays guitar and takes bong hits in the garage all day while your wife supports you and your family, (B) youre a Christian musical director at the local evangelical church who wears Birkenstocks and sings worship songs about Jesus and the mountain with your eyes closed while your wife supports you and your family, or (C) youre in some horrible third-rate Jimmy Buffett jazz fusion cover band with no chance in hell of ever making it and youre about two seconds away from handing them your fifth attempt at a demo CD to give to anyone they may know in the record business, and your wife supports you and your family. Any way you slice it, its not good. If it were Bruce Springsteen or Steve Tyler standing in front of them, they wouldnt have to ask. Otherwise they think to themselves, If youre a musician youre obviously a failure, or I would recognize you, and since I dont, you probably should just give it up because everyone I know has a guitar or banjo or saxophone in the garage or the attic somewhere but they dont call themselves musicians. They dust it off every once in a while and try to remember the three chords they learned in high school, but at some point they have enough sense to hang it up and get a real job.

Most people are nice so theyll repress the urge to smile and walk away to find someone they can better network with, and theyll ask another question or two.

Oh really, what do you play? theyll ask politely.

Well, Im in a band.

What kind of music?

Well, its like hard rock orpunk rock, whatever you wanna call it.

No shit, really? Hey, honey, this guys in a punk rock band! Do you guys play local? Whats it called?

Well, we tour a lot. Were called Pennywise.

Pennywise? Huh, never heard of it. Carol! Ever heard of Pennywise? No? Wow, thats fantastic. Do you have any records out?

Yeah, weve actually put out eight albums.

Jesus, youve been at it a long time.

Yep, fifteen years. So what do you do?

Im in plastics. What instrument do you play?

Well, Im the singer.

The singer? Wow! You dont look like a singer!

Its funny how often I get this response. Its incredible that people dont see that statement as being completely offensive. When you imagine a lead singer, you think of an incredibly good-looking, charismatic, charming, sexy, hot stud. So saying I dont look like a singer is basically telling me Im cosmically boring and unattractive. Ive often thought that to counteract this I should enter these events wearing a spandex pantsuit with the entire abdomen cut out and holding a microphone screaming, WHATS UP, MEADOWS ELEMENTARY? HOW YOU FEELING?

So we walk around the classroom and see all the finger-painted rainbows, the Thanksgiving turkeys made by tracing their hands on construction paper, the clay statues of some kind of animal, and the squiggly, crayon line drawings of our family (Im usually making an angry face and screaming into a microphone). We sit in their little chairs at their little tables and look at all the See Jane Run books they are reading, the carpet games they play, and the cubbyholes where they keep their stuff. Its all very nice and quaint and Little House on the Prairie -ish, and for some reason I feel slightly embarrassed to be there and cant stop thinking I could still be kept after school for something.

We eventually meet the incredibly sweet and cordial teacher, who has the calm, almost Buddhist-like temperament youd need to corral thirty raging five-year-olds all day and not go completely postal on them at one point or another. She of course drops the So what do you do? bomb right away. I tell her Im a musician and the name of our band, and Im amazed and somewhat terrified to find out that shes familiar with our music.

Dont you have a song on KROQ right now? Suddenly an ice shard has replaced my spine.

Um, yes we do. Oh, doesnt her Thanksgiving turkey look nice. Did she trace her hand to do that?

Yes, she did. Whats the song called, the one about authority or something?

Um, yeah, thats the one. Oh, honey, look at the drawing of usshe even drew Hamtaro the hamster!

Isnt it called Fuck Authority?

At that moment I realized that this was probably the first time a kindergarten teacher has ever spoken the f-word to a parent on parents night when she wasnt referring to something their little turd had written on the blackboard, or where the phrase wasnt followed by some kind of psychological freak-out and eventual lawsuit. It was actually used in polite conversation, and it was about me and my song on the radio. I began to feel the parallel layers of the universe collapse in around me.

Um, yeah. Thats the one.