Been thinking of my Pops a lot lately... I mean, I always do, but I go through those days when I recall great memories of this man that raised me. He's been gone now for more than 11 years, but I'll always think of him. It's actually weird that it's already been that long since he passed.
But I have his guitar vaulted in a display case in my home and I often pass by it and say, "Hello, Dad." It's a great way for me to recall the memories.
It's an early 60's Fender Jaguar in original condition. I was a little boy and could still remember this guitar. He played it for many years, and for me, it is his physical identity here in my home. At the age of 14, I started playing in his band. I taught myself to play drums, when the drummer in his band quit... I played for many years and with various members in that band. Soon, it all became a family band and we continued on until I moved to California in 2000.
Here's the throwback... that skinny guy in the middle, behind the drums, is me. We played smokey bars, weddings, reunions, at a hunting camp outdoors (froze our asses off outside), and even at a rodeo once. There are SO many memories... fantastic memories.