Wednesday, September 12, 2012
I am very sorry to hear of Bill Sours’ death. He and his wife Carol (I hesitate using their first names, they will always be Mr. & Mrs. Sours to me) were a tremendous influence on me through my teens and twenties. Their house was like a second home, full of interesting conversation and laughter. I recall many hours in the Sours household, listening and playing music in their living room, carefully writing down the chords and verses to some rock song. We may not have appreciated how wonderful it was at the time, but the Sours family were the best neighbors and friends one could hope for.
Mr. Sours’ musical talents were truly a gift, and he instilled in Phil a love of jazz improvisation. He helped Phil design and build a guitar amp/speaker, which was Phil’s pride and joy. He was so supportive of his children--which in Phil’s case translated into endless hours of noise coming from their basement. No good deed goes unpunished.
I also remember the airplane he built in his garage, which to any teenaged boy, automatically made Mr. Sours the coolest dad ever. I can still vividly see and hear that plane, its tail tied with a thick rope to a tree next to their driveway, the engine roaring at full throttle, while an FAA inspector checked his work. Every kid within earshot came running. Mr. Sours showed that with hard work and perseverance, it was possible to quite literally fly.
