My Nephew Smashed My 8000 Dollar Gibson Guitar And My Family Expected Me To Forgive Him

Standing on the deck of my parents’ lakehouse that Labor Day morning, I was tuning my 1975 Gibson Hummingbird while the sun came off the water in long gold strips. It was the kind of Kentucky morning my mother liked to describe as too pretty for arguing. The lake sat flat and silver, the dock boards were still damp with dew, and somewhere behind me continue reading …