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After a few lessons from a local "guitar man", we were told our son had a natural tallent that would only suffer from lessons. We were encouraged to let him play from the heart and not from hours of lessons. The old folks around here called it "playing by ear". In other words, you didn't need a piece of paper with notes on it to play a mean tune.
He amazed us with his tallent and ability to play anything from "Amazing Grace" to "Stairway to Heaven"...sometimes intertwined!!Â
He wanted two guitars. One was a Fender Stratocaster and the other a Les Paul Gibson. We bought the Fender for a Christmas gift one year. He saved his money and purchased a Les Paul Gibson a couple of years later. Both were prized possessions and were kept clean as a whistle and safe in padded cases when not in use.
My son...the guitar playing dude!
Today I learned of the death of Les Paul. At the age of 92 he was a legend in his own lifetime. He was the father of electric guitars. He was a hero to my son. I'm sorry to hear of his passing.
When my son was 21 years old, he left us to go live forever where there is no pain or sorrow or damned disease called leukemia. When he was at Emory University Hospital in Atlanta...he had his Les Paul guitar with him. While the chemo dripped, he played. I was told he would often be in the day room with many other people who were attached to various IV drips. He played. They were entertained and for a while were transformed away from the starkness of the hospital setting where evil but necessary medications were put in their veins.
I still have the Fender in the case safely tucked away in a closet where I can occasionally get it out and smell the aroma of my son and touch the strings that would become one with his hands as the music filled our house.
The Les Paul guitar needed someone to play it and make sure it was in fine tune. My youngest brother took lessons and could actually produce a sound that was recognizable as a song. Usually he played a banjo, but the guitar was a natural second instrument for him. I play the piano and dulcimer...that is all I could master.
Hubby and I decided my brother would give the guitar a home and would love it and know the special meaning it had to Greg. Baby Brother was the natural choice. When I gave it to him, he cried. This big old 6'3" hunk of a man had tears streaming down his face and never tried to wipe away a single one. He knew I was giving him part of my son...his only nephew...to keep and cherish and forever feel a part of him was living on through this beautiful instrument.
Today, I hope Greg finally got to meet Les Paul. I like to imagine the two of them jamming away in the music room of Heaven. I can only imagine the sounds that fill the portals as they play duets with their Heavenly instruments! Some angels may have to put cotton in their ears if the amps are turned up to max sound! I'll bet they are gathered around clapping and laughing and singing along as Greg and Les lead a musical session that never has to end.
RIP Les Paul. And thanks for the guitars.
Mz Scarlett...still hearing the strings of that guitar in the hands of her son so many years ago (or was it just yesterday??)
             