In The South Of Long Ago Whenever

My Big Ears Indicated A Talent For Music. This Thrilled Me.

In The South Of Long Ago Whenever A New Man Appeared For Work In Any Of The Laborers Gangs, He Would Be Asked If He Could Sing. If He Could He Got The Job. The Singing Of These Working Men Set The Rhythm For The Work.

Setting My Mind On A Musical Instrument Was Like Falling In Love. All The World Seemed Bright And Changed.

With A Guitar I Would Be Able To Express The Things I Felt In Sounds.

A Lean, Loose-jointed Negro Had Commenced Plunking A Guitar Beside Me While I Slept. His Clothes Were Rags; His Feet Peeped Out Of His Shoes. His Face Had On It Some Of The Sadness Of The Ages. As He Played, He Pressed A Knife On The Strings Of The Guitar In A Manner Popularized By Hawaiian Guitarists Who Used Steel Bars. The Effect Was Unforgettable.