Stringing It Together

 

His name was Nelson Carson.

I was a young, white kid. He was an older African-American gentleman. While the evening news was filled with stories of protests related to bussing and school integration, the two of us came together once every week. He to supplement his income, and me to learn from him.

It was the mid-1970s and Mr. Carson was my guitar teacher. He wasn’t my first musical instructor. Mike Hubrel took me as a student for a couple of years ...

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Two Gone, Too Soon

 

Two funerals in one day.

Saying goodbye to two people you’ve known more than half your life wouldn’t be easy no matter when it happened, but two on the same day was tough.

One passing was expected. The other was not.

One service was nearby. The other was not.

I did not want to have to choose one service over the other, but because of the distance between the two and the start times for each, it looked as if I’d have to.

But, at ...

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