On my 6th birthday, my parents bought me my first guitar. They surprised me at church with it. It was a great day. Prior to that, I had used my grandfather’s guitar. It was a great guitar and I loved it. I took great care of it, played in numerous bands with it.
I was at church on my 29th birthday, setting up for Sunday morning service. I had my guitar on the stage, in a stand. My son was 14 months old and loved my guitar as well. I would let him strum the strings as I would hold a chord from time to time.
He assumed he could walk onto the stage and strum daddy’s guitar. When he did, he knocked it off the stand and and the truss rod blew out of the back of the neck. I owned the guitar 23 years exactly.
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