skynyrd

I wrote this email after our visit to the rock and roll hall of fame a week or two ago. Since I'm inherently lazy, I'll just post it instead or writing something new. What the heck.

Spent the day at the rock and roll hall of fame in beautiful Cleveland yesterday. It's a magical place. Magical enough to allow me to stand arm in arm with my kid, our eyes just inches from the three guitars you see in this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-_8xivRTsY
With the help of God, fate or Ronny Van Zandt himself, the DJ we had met an hour earlier spun Free Bird, in it's entirety, over the museum speakers. Recognition of the opportunity hit Jack and me. Hard. We made a mad dash to the small exhibit just outside the bathrooms and coat check on the first floor to seize a moment neither of us had ever imagined. We got up close to the glass, looking at the strings and pick-ups, both covered in sweat induced rust, probably from hours of practice in the Florida humidity and overfilled concert arenas of the 70's. There we were, father and son, speakers above us blasting a song that means so many different things to each of us, and there they were, the three guitars who channeled that song, so many times and so many places. Jack swears when he looked closely enough, the strings were moving. Not all of them, just the last two; the ones responsible for most of that never-ending lead. I'm telling you, if heaven exists, I was there for damn near 9 minutes.