FAMILY MATTERS
All good musicians need a start — even if that means noisily at home

By Ka'ohua Lucas

"Please stop," I begged.

My youngest son had been drumming incessantly on the dining room table, his large hands pounding out the tune to "Wipe Out."

It brought back memories of my younger brother and his drumming. He started with the dining room table, expanding his repertoire to include his lap, the lanai and the walls of our home.

It used to drive me crazy.

I think my 8-year-old has inherited his uncle's genes.

The one big difference is that the home my brother and I were raised in was larger than the home I own now. My brother could disappear into another part of the house and drum to his heart's content without interruption and without being heard.

On the other hand, my 8-year-old really has no secluded place to lead his one-man jam session.

On occasion, I'll find him tapping out a tune with two No. 2 pencils serving as his drumsticks and my vitamin bottles as the drum set.

"Mommy, I want a drum set for Christmas," he says.

"We don't want to disturb the neighbors, honey," I say, feeling rather guilty.

My oldest son has taken up the 'ukulele. He carries it around plucking a half-learned tune to "Europa."

"When the hell is he going to learn the rest of it?" my husband complains.

"It takes time, my dear," I remind him. "Kelly-Boy DeLima didn't learn how to play 'ukulele overnight."

I'm not sure why the drumming bothers me so much more than the plucking of 'ukulele strings. Maybe it's the incessant pounding on a surface that was not really meant to be used for that purpose.

Or it could be my subconscious being jolted awake, dredging up those memories of my younger brother.

"Every good musician has to begin somewhere," my mother prompts.

I am reminded of the great local composer and orchestra leader Johnny Noble, who began his professional musical career on drums.

"The first instrument he learned to play with proficiency was the drums," writes the late George S. Kanahele in "Hawaiian Music and Musicians." "Which led him into playing dance music with theater orchestras and dance bands."

My little drummer boy could be well on his way to becoming the next Ringo Starr.

I mentioned my irritation to my brother about his godson's constant drumming. He smiled and said, "Now I know what to get him for Christmas — a pair of drumsticks."

I've decided my days are numbered. I soon must concede as I did with my eldest and his 'ukulele and invest in a pair of bongos.

With those, my 8-year-old can transport his percussion ensemble anywhere in the house or yard.

And practice "Wipe Out" on his drums instead of the bathroom shower wall.

Ka'ohua Lucas has an 18-year-old daughter and two sons, 11 and 8. Write her at: Family Matters, Island Life, The Honolulu Advertiser, P.O. Box 3110, Honolulu, HI 96802; send e-mail to ohana@honoluluadvertiser.com or fax 535-8170.