Uncle John and Aunt Ona's House. Or: One Thing Leads to Another

  I think it all started when I broke my leg. I  had not played guitar, having gotten discouraged (or something like that), in quite a while. The Silvertone electric my mom had gotten me for Christmas when I was a teenager was sitting in a closet, strings quietly rusting.  

We were living in the Old House where I sat feeling sorry for myself when my friend John rolls up and sez, "Come with me" and I sez, "Where?" and he sez, "Your uncle's house."

So it turns out that they (my Aunt Ona and Uncle John and some of their friends) were playing music there.

There is nothing in the world like listening to live music, even if it is just in somebody's walled-in front porch which has been converted in to a music room.

And I fell in love. All over again. 

And it was suggested that I sing at one of the Country shows that they were doing. Then it was suggested that my sister Deb (who had been tagging along) and my cousin Mike and I should have a spot on one of these shows to make music for the "young folks." Eventually Deb dropped out and Mike moved on and in the process, I picked up on playing the bass guitar and that led to me playing in a honkytonk band. 

Next thing you know I'm wandering into a nightclub one evening and meet up with the love of my life, which story is related here:  

 

https://troalbridge.blogspot.com/2015/04/the-night-we-met.html

 

 

 So a shout-out and a big thank-you to Uncle John and Aunt Ona, who reminded me of my love for music and set me on a collision course with my future bride. I love you guys and never mind that you're no longer here to hear me say it; I'll say it again when I see you.