Back in college, my friend Dave was one of the closest things we had to a hippy at our school, besides the jeans, t-shirts and, Goodwill vests, and sandals, he brought his guitar on campus all the time. He was going to teach me how to play.
So I asked my dad for a guitar. And my dad, who knew pawn shops were cool WAY before the History Channel, went and found me a 12 string Yamaha acoustic electric, complete with a plaquard underneath the hole that said "Praise the Lord." I almost died (after all, I'm a liturgical Lutheran)....but it was a nice guitar. I did say a prayer for the poor praise band guy who apparently had to hock his guitar. But the guitar came with a promise. I'd give it back if I didn't learn how to play it.
Right at that time, though, Dave got busy with a new girlfriend, and I took 24 credits trying to graduate before my wedding, and that got set aside. My dad never actually mentioned a deadline, so I still have the guitar. And today both Maggie and I are going to go have our first lesson.
