A Note from Dad Before the Concert

My brother was rummaging through our late dad's briefcase earlier today. He found an old letter that Dad wrote to me. According to the date, which I have provided, it was written before my first concert with Paul McCartney when I was just seven years old.

As I read it, on Halloween no less, I had a strange feeling that he read my mind from beyond the grave. All my worries and "What if?" questions that have been racing through my head since he passed in 2004 seemed to vanish.

There have been times in my life when I wondered if Dad really wanted me to create music. He didn't teach me guitar because, according to Mom, he didn't have the patience. He was a little leary when I asked him if I should buy a Legend of Zelda ocarina or a Game Boy Advance. I went with the GBA, but sometimes I wish I had an ocarina, no matter how annoying it would sometimes sound. Although this letter doesn't let me see much of Dad the guitar player, it gives me a good look at Dad the musician. I now feel certain that relearning how to play guitar (I started out when I was seven, but didn't pick it up again until I was nineteen) was something that Dad would wholeheartedly approve of.

In copying this letter, I decided to type everything as it was, bad and strange grammer included. So here it is, a note from Dad:

5-12-1993 4:30AM