I started playing guitar when I was ten years old. The first guitar I ever met was a sunburst Stella sitting in the corner of Harry Drell’s living room. He taught me a D and A7 and some old tunes like “Old Paint” and “Pick a Bale o’ Cotton.” I was drawn to that guitar like a magnet and I literally played it till my fingers bled. Then I put band aids on and played some more.Mom & Dad bought me a Harmony guitar for my tenth birthday--probably the best gift they ever gave me (except for that ‘63 Martin D28 they bought me for my 16th birthday). So began a lifelong love affair with the guitar, which, at 60, is still going strong.Like many love relationships, I’ve had my ups and downs with the guitar--times when I didn’t think I was going to make it, times when I didn’t feel I could measure up; times when we just didn’t get along!But I’ve also had moments of unadulterated bliss, and moments of deep satisfaction when I’ve expressed something through the instrument that I wasn’t able to say any other way.I love the guitar. It has given me purpose, direction, and shape. It saved my life. The guitar is still magic to me and still makes my heart leap. It still beckons me to revel in its beauty, commune with its spirit, and on a good day, transcend this hard world we live in and soar to the just about the purest place I know.