Mystical Harrison

george-harrison

What do you sing at a friend’s wake?

It shouldn’t be a sad song – do you really want to add dark clouds when the loss, especially like this one, is already so sad?

My buddy was 48 and a regular tennis player … and he collapsed on the court from a massive heart attack.

He also happened to be a songwriter (actual, professional) and a well-known emcee of open-mic shows in Southern California.  So, last night, his widow organized a final open-mic night at the funeral home … to send him off.

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O little axe of Bethlehem

baby-jesus-guitarIn the year of our Lord, nineteen hundred and eighty-three, a youth humbly approached his special destination — a little music shop in the heart of his city’s downtown.

Inside, he took $188 in crumpled tens and twenties from his pocket.  Then the kindly shop owner reached above his head and took down a cherry-red imitation Les Paul electric guitar — a Japanese knockoff — from a long row of guitars hanging from the ceiling.

When the transaction was ended and the lad emerged from the shop with his guitar (in a very cheap black case), he whispered under his breath:

O Lord, though I’m pimply, though the lenses of my glasses are very thick, though my hair is oily, though I am girl-less … O Lord, please … let me rock.

This is my story.  Well, OK, it didn’t quite happen like that.

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