Sort of. I mean, looking back I can see how they thought they were being supportive, though at critical moments they'd pull the rug and gut any forward momentum I had going for me.
Violin? All in. They loved it.
Piano they were so-so on.
Guitar they apparently saw as a giant fuck you, and it ran the gamut from "you're too loud" even playing an electric unplugged to practice, to "if you don't start playing things people want to hear, like top forty, you'll never get anywhere," to the all inspiring sit-down as I was contemplating moving to a more musical city where I was screamed at and told I was going to fail and be homeless if I even tried it.
Years of that, and I had almost forgotten about the support in the early days, until mom heard I'd broken the old violin back out. Then I get, "you should join the symphony here. You were always so talented."
So, I guess they supported what they understood, and hated what they didn't.
