As a child growing up in
eastern North Carolina one
of the most important things in my life was music. My
father
played the guitar and sang in church every Sunday.
His father played just about anything with strings that
he
could get his hands on.I guess that I never stood a
chance
of coming from that without developing an interest in
music
and at the age of 13 I was given my first Mandolin. I was
fascinated
and honored by that gift. I'd never seen either my father
or
grandfather play a mandolin and my father had told me one
day he hoped I would want to learn to play one.
I was very lucky to be exposed to so much music so often
and eventually
I managed to learn a enough chords, runs and licks to
play without
totally embarassing either of them. I was also lucky
enough
to play with both of them once before my
grandfather's health took his skills away.
I'll always cherish those memories
On February 10th 2000 the sound in the music for so many here on earth was silenced. My Father lost his fight with cancer but in the end won his fight to reach his eternal reward. His music here lives on and will remain as long as I can pick up an intrument and form a chord. He taught me many things and I was as lucky as anyone ever has been to have been a part of his life and to be his son. One of the many things he taught me was this: Music is for sharing and for
those who will listen, honest music will always be heard
and it will always ring true and good...
Thanks Dad, I love you and I can't wait until we can play again.
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