Chris

And just like I predicted, he is gone a week, (Jan. 2009) and I miss him. Especially at about 2 am when he would come home from hanging with his bonehead friends. I am waxing nostalgic sitting in his old room writing this, looking at the wall-size mural of the Incubus fish, the smell of dirty socks still permeating the carpet.

At last, I finally get to miss the Big Guy. I love you son!

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Christmas '98. He is 13 and badly wanted an electric guitar for Christmas.

 

Chris (15) and Brett (8) dancing at the bowling alley.

 

The dreaded dreadlocks. As hard as it was to look at, I am proud of him for sticking with this for many months, despite being the only one of his friends.

 

On stage at the Phoenix, in Petaluma. His old guitar and amp (since stolen). Rock on, dude!

 

At the studio recording his hit single. With his permission, someday I'll post a copy of it.

 

Chris and Teresa

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