I started taking drum lessons a year ago, on a 15-year-old electronic kit that was sad and tired; it didn't really want to be played anymore. But in "make do" mode, as a practical parent myself who always says, "Let's see if it sticks before we invest," I practiced my rudiments and exercises and learned a few songs dutifully on that resistant equipment.

I went, in those early months, from telling people, "I am taking drum lessons," to, "I'm learning to play drums." And somewhere at the end of summer, I started to really feel in my heart and soul a little bit like a drummer. Even though I never said it out loud, it was rattling around in my head: "I AM A DRUMMER."

Imagine my surprise, days later, reading the opening to Week Two, which is not coincidentally titled, "Recovering a Sense of Identity," and opens with, "This week addresses self-definition as a major component of creative recovery." How we identify ourselves matters. I don't know what magic threshold I was waiting for to call myself a drummer, but I passed it in my head.

Due to a bout of tendinitis late this summer, I did almost nothing with my right arm for 6 weeks. At my first lesson after recovery, my drum teacher asked me to play through all the songs I'd learned. After the second song, he said, "You're ready for a band." He might as well have said, “You’re a drummer.”

That felt like a signal that I had “earned” a new (to me) acoustic drum kit. I bought this Ludwig kit from a retired drummer in Liberty Hill, TX -- a musician-turned-local-businessman who seems to have almost made it as big as he’d hoped. I'm excited to give this drum kit a new adventure.