Editors Note: This is a user-supplied article, which we are grateful for.  Music plays such an important place in our lives. Listening to it, playing it, making lyrics a personal memory. If you have a story of how it has affected you, please use the Easy Share tab at the top of this page and let us read it. This contains a glimpse into the real life of a real person and how music has affected them.  As such, it contains some content and language that is adult-oriented.

Back when I was a junior in High School, my mom and my step dad got divorced, and my step dad moved out. I had two brothers, one of them went to live with one set of my grandparents, the other one went to live with my other grandparents. Then my mom moved in with her new boyfriend. I was left all alone in the house. My mom would come by every couple of weeks and bring food over.

Soon enough my friends found out about this arrangement, and I would have girls over and tell them they could have a party if they cleaned the house. So my friends and I would all pitch in on beer and I had girls to do the cleaning for me, It was really ideal for a 17 year old boy at the time.

One day one of my friends brings over this younger guy, he as like 14 or 15, and told me that he was a guitar player and he knows my brother. I had just got my first guitar not too long before this. So I was a novice, but this kid had been playing since he was 7 or 8 and was terrific. It turned out that he was a runaway, and he wanted a place to hide out so I let him live in my basement for a couple months, just told him to make sure and hide if my mom comes over, cause she did once in a while.

Then after some friends found out that he was living there, a couple more kids ran away from home and were staying there with me. I wasn’t lonely even though my whole family left. One day one of them comes in with a couple of pounds of weed, he was out in the woods and had stumbled on to someones grow operation and took it and brought it to my house. He sets it on the kitchen table. The table is covered six inches deep with weed, when all of a sudden there is a knock on the door.

You could see the front door from the kitchen table and it had three little rectangle windows in the front door, as I looked at it I see some guys face. The guy that brought the weed, sweeps it all off of the table and out of sight from the front door and says thats my social worker.

Fuck

I hope he didn’t see that, but he had to. He’s banging on the door, so all the runaways go hide in the basement.

I go to the door. The guy says he is looking for “so and so”, who is in the basement, but I lied and said they weren’t there, I don’t know who that is. Then the social worker guy says I know what I saw on your table and tries to push his way into the house. I wasn’t having any of that and shoved him down off the porch and locked the door on him. He proceeds to walk around the house and to try to come up to the patio door, which is right by the kitchen table, and the floor over there is covered in weed that he can’t see from the front door. So i go outside and keep pushing him off of the deck, not letting him get anywhere near the patio door. Finally he gives up and says “I’m going to go get the cops”, and he left. I made them clean up all that weed and gather up their weed and get out of there. I never had any more runaways stay there. The cops never showed up,

Anyways, that young kid runaway guitar player that was living in my basement had this songs riff wrote when he lived there with me back in the 80s. Here it is with singing. I think the guitar solo is awesome, you could say it’s bitchin!

Only So Long

Editor Note: The Saga continues. Be sure to tune in next week.

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