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Our household is sad today. You might not think that the fact that Bo Diddley died would cast a pall of mourning over a four year old girl's day, but it most certainly has. But she's no average child, she practically did her teething on the neck of a guitar and she didn't have your run of the mill baby girl nursery theme her nursery was decorated with guitars on the walls and whole and half notes on every possible surface.

The reason for the musical obsession is that my husband is a musician (and a darn good one if I do say so). His dad loved really good guitar and exposed him to the great players. I have nothing against some of the modern players and enjoy listening to some. But anyone who knows squat about guitar knows that if you want to be any kind of a player you have go back to the roots to get to the good stuff. Jimi Hendrix knew it; Eric Clapton knows it and look where it got them. They were smart enough to know that the music that came out of the heart of Mississippi had the best beat. Each guitar god that followed has added a new layer; most are smart enough not to say they improved the original sound and to pay homage to the true stars like Bo Diddley who came before them and gave them the tools of the trade.

I'm very proud that our little girl who knew the words to "Who Do You Love" and "Hey Bo Diddley" before she was three years. But it hurts to see her be so down because she was so connected to the old blues musician and feels the loss so keenly that music lovers all over the world have suffered on this day. She knows in her soul that there aren't any more Bo Diddley's to replace this one that's gone.

I need to find some way to turn this into a learning experience for my grieving daughter. Maybe the right words to tell her that while another of the original blues guys have joined the band in Heaven will come to me in time. This girl might not ever play the first note or become a musician, but she certainly has the sensitivity and the soul of one.