When I was about 14 I was sitting in the kitchen with my mother and my Aunt Lillian, my fathers sister, whod come for a visit. I had my guitar and was just noodling aimlessly in that annoying way guitar players do. Aunt Lillian was like my Dad and their sibs, not educated, didnt graduate high school, but intelligent, articulate and insightful. She suddenly fixed her gaze on me for some seconds, a relatively long time, then said to my mother, He takes a lot of comfort from that guitar, doesnt he? Not he likes or even he loves but he takes a lot of comfort. She was right, of course; at the time I was one of those fat, bright, eccentric lonely kids. The guitar was about my only friend and I dont think it overstates the case to say that playing the guitar saved my life, or at least my sanity. I still often take a lot of comfort from it.
Posted on: Wed, 14 Jan 2015 00:44:54 +0000
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