I would like to especially thank my dad for being the first guy to inspire me to play the guitar.
My earliest memories consist of my dad, usually wearing a black beanie, a denim biker vest, Levi’s and biker boots, pulling out his black 60’s Telecaster with a maple neck from under the bed, unplugged, picking out and bending some funky blues licks, and then putting it right back in its black vinyl case with the reddish-orange, fuzzy lining and sliding it back under the bed. I can still remember the way it sounded, again, unplugged, and also the way that case smelled. Anyone who has been around vintage guitars knows what I’m talking about.
At that point in his life, my dad had already played in bands through high school and beyond and had gotten burned out on the whole thing. Had he stuck with it, there’s no telling where he would have gone because he was a gifted guitar and bass player.
When I was about 7 years old, he tried to teach me some things on the guitar. But I didn’t have the focus and he didn’t have the patience, so we didn’t get anywhere. In fact, he told me that I didn’t have the ability to play guitar. So I believed him and I didn’t pick it up again until I was almost 23 years old. So, parents, be patient with your kids, your words matter!
Nonetheless, I didn’t hold it against him, and I was determined to learn, and my dad and I eventually wound up playing quite a bit together. Those are some of the best memories I have, and I know it will never happen again, in quite the same way. I have had and still have the privilege of playing with other gifted and beautiful friends, but I know that it will never be quite the same as jamming with my old man! And he will always be the first guy that made me want to play the electric guitar. So, thanks, love you, dad!
