My first guitar was given to me by my maternal grandmother. The story goes that she found it leaning against a dumpster. I remember it was a sunburst hollow-body electric with no strings. I would sing like a legend in my bedroom for thousands of adoring fans, shredding licks over empty frets and cranking up broken knobs. Later, the parents couldn’t agree about gifting me another guitar or what universe it might all lead to. Thanks dad, for noticing my love of music, encouraging it, and hunting down my first playable instrument. Thanks mom, for coming to my shows, cheering me on, and rescuing me when I needed it. Thanks grandma. I still hear you singing at your piano.