Shannon's was the record player, even before dad died. Mine was song wirting, but Ihad been doing that for a while. And my dad's was sitting on the front step, playing his guitar, singing in his deep southern voice that often helped me to sleep. He found one of my songs when Iwas little, it was a stupid one, but one night Iheard him playing it. I never told him that I heard him playing it. Or how it sounded so right to hear it on his voice. That's why Ididn't burn the song. As bad as it was, but Ilook at the lyrics when I can't think of anything, and I try to hear his voice singing to it. Itry to picture him singing all of my songs. If they didn't sound right with him, the they were gone. It was strange to think that my relationship with my dad, ended getting stronger, only after he died.

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