I was maybe 6 or 7 years old when I laid eyes on it. My mom and I were browsing at Rice's Flea Market where nothing other than penny-candy typically caught my attention. But somewhere in the maze of tables and crowds of people, I saw something that would become a passion of my life. A black case was lying on the ground and inside was an acoustic guitar. I don't exactly remember what it looked like other than it was small, like me at the time. I had no idea how to play it - all I knew was that I wanted to play it. We didn't have the money to buy it that day, but my mom brought me back the following week - it wasn't there. I never forgot it... I was 15 when I got my first lesson on the guitar. I was in college before I wrote my first meaningful song. I owned my own home before I started my own band. The practical aspects of life sometimes usurp the wonderfully impractical ones. My Engineering Degree? Practical. Pays the bills. My music? Well, that makes me happy - no diploma necessary. Funny thing, it's my guitars that hang on my wall. The diploma sits in the closet. I think I write with an open mind, so-to-speak, in that I've never tried to emulate or copy any one style. Musically, I simply know what I like and I write about the things I've experienced. That kid at the flea market knew something years ago. She'd like to sing to you sometime... Hope you enjoy. KS.