A ukulele is in the house
A ukulele is in the house
When I was nine years old, my grandma Clara gave me a guitar for my birthday. For about six months, I walked up the street for weekly lessons — until my guitar teacher broke the disappointing news that he was moving to, well, Spain. My interest dwindled, and I took up other extracurricular activities, including Little League baseball. I still embraced music: singing in the church choir and…
View On WordPress












