Dear Jack

Last night I sat in your bottom bunk and watched you play your guitar. You had the guitar in your lap and looked up songs on your computer and played along. I got the warm fuzzies when you pulled up the tablature for Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here. It got even warmer and fuzzier when you were actually able to play it. You amaze me. Part of it - I'm sure - is that I have no musical ability at all so I can't understand how my offspring would be able to. The other part is that you are so talented and so good at teaching yourself things.