Did I ever say I loved to play music with my son?

New memories are sharp, vivid and reside in the senses. I miss new memories wit you Ian. My memoirs are now more diffuse, liquid but visceral. They are attached to activities, places and sounds. Wish we had pictures or movies - but with music together - it is all in form of memory.

Playing with you was a father's dream.

• Practicing in your bedroom, 
• Hearing you experimenting with licks while walking around the house, 
• Encouraging each other to make the riff work, 
• Setting up and tearing down the set at the Stone, 
• Looking to my left and seeing you lay down the bass line, 
• Sitting under the lockers - sharing our souls and praying to our Father, 
• Laughing with you as we talked after about the set, 
• Roadie-ing your stuff before or after a show, 
• Listening with pride and awe from the audience, 
• Singing worship together at the Stone, and 

...thinking it would never end.

The memories linger and hang all over Austin - reminding me of our times playing, singing or listening with you. They dwell in

• Our house - literally in every room, 
• Austin High hallways and choir room where the Stone meets, 
• Antones' old building, 
• Guitar stores around town,
• Used CD stores - had to have the physical CD,
• Beale Street and other clubs on West and East 6th districts, 
• Rock island at Zilker, 
• The Erwin Center, 
• The Stone's St. John's campus, and 

...in all the pictures I treasure on my phone.

Memories permeate sounds that I hear. Need not be exact, but if they recall the

• Hum of Bessey being plucked, 
• 'Pop' and 'snap' of your Musicman's strings, 
• Fluid slide on the Godin frettless, but also in the 
• Distorted sounds of my tele,
• "It just isn't right" of the PRS, 
• Sparkle of the Deluxe, 
• Opening riff of "Love Shines,"
• Ring of a sus chord up the neck, 
• The "cool" of a blues lick on the bass strings
• Blend of an open string riff in the middle of a song, or

...anytime I hear music.

 It took a while but I found a sound that haunts and reminds what we shared and foretells where we will be going together. The open ring of a Gretsch hollowbody coupled with the bend of a Bigsby would be it. I hear you

• Between the notes, 
• Behind the chords, 
• Pushing me to think different, 
• Coaxing nimbleness from old fingers, 
• Opening my ears to new progressions, and 

...ultimately in all I play.

I still look to my left, still hear your voice and always play with you - for in that experience what was diffuse and liquid takes tangible form through music and fingers on the strings. The visceral becomes sense-able again - sharp, vivid and permeating all my senses.

Did I ever say I love to play music with my son?

Love you E