I was at a show a couple of weeks ago and as I was watching the band, I started to think about all the places their instruments have been. I got to wondering about the life of an instrument, separately from the life of the musician that plays it. I wondered, what was the most unusual place your instrument has taken you? Who are the people you’ve met and connected with because of that instrument? Do you lead the guitar to the music or does it guide you in how it needs to be played? Not playing an instrument myself, I can’t really answer these questions. But I do have a story about a guitar guiding me through life. I thought I’d share it with you, in hopes that you would share you stories with me, either in person at a show or on the message board.
I have faint memories of listening to my uncle Patrick play his acoustic guitar when I was a small child. It didn’t happen very often, but when it did I would follow the sound and listen as long as I could. I don’t know what he played, but it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. As I got older I would ask him to play, but life back then was difficult for him and there was little time for music when there was work to be done. I cherished the times that I did get to listen to him play. Sometimes he would let me sit with the guitar and strum it while I tried unsuccessfully to make songs.
I was so obsessed with “playing” my uncle’s guitar that my grandmother bought me an acoustic guitar and signed me up for lessons when I was in second grade. I was thrilled. That enthusiasm didn’t last long however. I quickly got bored with My Darlin’ Clementine and Mary Had a Little Lamb, and I stopped going to the lessons. The sounds I was making were not the sounds I heard in my head, and I just didn’t want to do it anymore. I pinpoint this decision as being the first bad decision I ever made.
For the next two decades of my life, I chose music that was predominantly guitar driven, always trying to fill a void in my soul that I didn’t even realize was there. The Grateful Dead are my touchstone, and when I really need comfort I can always turn to Jerry’s guitar. But live guitar in my life was non-existent, until my son, Patrick, was four and I realized that playing guitar was in his blood.
From four to twelve, Patrick explored guitar, teaching himself, learning from youtube and taking lessons from our neighbor. Around twelve he really came into his own and blossomed as a guitar player, teaching himself songs by ear and learning to jam along with his iPod or the radio.
When he was thirteen, he had finally outgrown his previous acoustic guitar and my mom gave him my uncle’s old guitar, a late 70’s model Yamaha. Suddenly, that sound was back in my life, and it was being made by my son! It was interesting getting something back that I didn’t even realize I was missing.
That summer, in June of 2014, Patrick attended his second CBA Father’s Day festival, taking part in the Youth Academy. The song his group performed was Ripple, a song that has a great deal of meaning to me. It’s one of my favorite Grateful Dead songs and we played it at my uncle’s funeral. To see my son up on stage singing and playing that song, on my uncle’s guitar, it was truly a life changing experience; it was like all the different lives I’ve led, all the paths that I’ve walked, converged in one single event.
Many doors opened to me after that, leading me to change and heartache, happiness and sorrow, but most importantly, they’ve put me on the path to discover my true self. I found music again, I discovered other guitars that make me happy and sing to my soul.
My son has blossomed into a fine young musician, exploring not only guitar, but mandolin, keyboard, bass and drums. He started his first band with some friends, and though they don’t play my kind of music, my son is happy and that’s all that matters. He still jams out on the Yamaha, though he’s added an electric acoustic Ibanez 12-string and a Fender Strat to his collection and they take up a good amount of his time. The Fender is great and the Ibanez sounds pretty freaking amazing, but my favorite is still the Yamaha.
My journey with music is intertwined with my son’s journey with music. The guitar that influenced my life is now influencing his. He’s played it in bluegrass jams at the Father’s Day festival with some very talented musicians, he’s played with his friends in the middle of the night next to the pond, at the ocean with family, and with a random band while at the High Sierra Music Festival. I’m sure there will be some other, far more interesting places that he will play it as he gets older.
I wonder what the most unusual place my uncle ever played it was and who he met because of it. Did it change his life like it has my son’s? Was the guitar new to him or did he buy it used from someone? Whose fingers have run over those frets? What songs did they play? Will my son hand it down to his children or perhaps some young protege down the road?
What stories would your instrument tell if it had a voice?
