In 1976, I bought a Guild D-40 from Herb David’s Guitar Studio in
Ann Arbor, Michigan, threw it in the back of my old Buick, and moved to New York City. That guitar led me to a creative outlet, became a solace, my church, a road into the artist I didn’t know existed. I put every song I ever wrote into a big, black notebook. I will be dead in the ground before anyone sees or hears those attempts. And yet, like Lewis & Clark, I found my way to my version of the Pacific. Been on that beach ever since.
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