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THE MUSIC LESSON "Daddy, you play really good," the young girl said admiring her father while he played his guitar. She would focus on her father's fingers intently and also accompanied him with her melodious hum. Her father would always play old folk songs which she loved to hear. "One day you will learn to play well, too," the father said trying to encourage his only daughter. He and his daughter were the only people-- except their dog, blacky-- who lived in the small red brick house. "Will you teach me? Please, daddy," she begged. Every night after their supper her father would play music, then they'd do their usual night time routine. The routine involved taking a shower, telling old wise tales, then her father, John, would tuck her in to her cozy bed. "Here. Come over here," John commanded. "Put this on your lap." He put the curve of the guitar on her thigh. The body of the guitar reached up to her neck. He began teaching young Abigail the different parts of the guitar, giving her the names of the parts, and explaining what to do with it. "These are called frets." He pointed to the spaces between the lines of the neck of the guitar. He began retelling stories o