My new guitar hasn't left my side since I bought it Tuesday evening.  It cost quite a bit, by a Blockbuster salary standard, and emptied my bank account of all money that was to go towards a car.

Let me explain my decision.  Tuesday I was awaiting a rather important email from a friend, so I was checking my mail quite frequently at school.  Instead I got an email from my mother.  Curt, an old family friend who had been battling cancer, had finally passed on.

At first I was relieved to hear that it was over, then as I strode out of class I started to remember everything he'd ever done for me.  He was the first person to put a guitar in my hands and he taught me my first chord, (an A if you're curious).  I used to spend hours listening to him play and sing his folk tunes, at first too skittish to sing along.

Then I found that I actually had a voice of my own, and I sang House of the Rising Sun by the Animals for a talent show in the 8th grade.  Curt taught me the words and a teacher accompanied me on piano.

For my 15th Christmas I got a guitar of my own.  I used to practice all the time, spending more time playing guitar than I did on my viola.  It became my new favorite instrument.

Then we found out that Curt had cancer.  I only doubled my resolve to learn as much as I could before he died, so that I could impress him with my abilities.  I got the chance once, teaching him a jewel song that he didn't know but really liked.  We played together, not singing, but just playing with him improvising on my hack and slash of a jewel.  That was the last time I saw him.

He was doing wonderfully, I'm told, up until as recently as St. Patrick's Day.  But last Monday night, he died in his sleep.  I found out Tuesday at school.  I figured that since my guitar was getting kind of old, and I had the money, that there was no better day to buy a new one.

With Dan Fogelberg's  "Leader of the Band"  running through my mind, I went to the guitar store.  I looked up and down the rows of acoustics, drooling over a few collectors' items I couldn't really afford.  I finally gave in to my doubts, and started to walk out of the store when I remembered something Curt had told me.

"I play acoustics because I like them, because they have a nice sound.  But if you ever want to get into playing for big crowds, you need something electric."

So I scanned the electric wall, past all the machine stamped crap to the end where the interesting guitars were kept, the ones with real history behind them.  And there it was.  As if Curt was there pointing it out to me.  A 1960's custom built something...no brand markings except on the stolen neck.  I picked it up and plugged it in and started to play.  It had a bewitching sound, like a siren calling a sailor to his doom.

Confidently I strode up to the counter and made a deal.  I pulled out my wallet and that's when doubt struck again.  I looked at the guitar, and the price on the register, and back at the guitar.  Spending all the money I had saved, on one guitar, giving in to the electric generation, seemed foolish.

A sign caught my eye.  Curt was talking to me again.

"Guitars before cars."

So I handed over the cash, and walked out with my new guitar.

The leader of the band is tired, and his eyes are growing old.  His blood runs through my instrument, his song is in my soul.  My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man.  I am the living legacy to the leader of the band.

All I can do is share the music with anyone who will listen.