My guitar intimidates me ...

My guitar intimidates me. Not any particular guitar, but just in general.

I took up the instrument in “the summer of ‘69” when my Dad bought me “my first real six string”. I remember it clearly – several trips to K-Mart in Benton Harbor, Michigan, where we lived at the time – and some intense lobbying finally got me a gaudy Teisco guitar with 4 pickups and a small amplifier. I dabbled with it for a couple of years but didn’t make any progress until we moved back to California and I started formal lessons.

I ended up embracing the guitar and music in a way which defined and inspired and consumed me for … well, until now I guess. I have played music – guitar and bass anyway – ever since, and have spent a very large amount of that time actively playing in bands. I developed an inexplicable bond with my favorite instruments, and was absolutely gutted when all but one of my guitars and basses – most of which I had owned for most of my life – were stolen in 2005. The financial loss was recovered, but the emotional toll still hurts. Like I said, inexplicable. Equally hard to explain is the feeling of having music bottled up inside and needing a way to get out … I imagine others with an artistic bent will understand.

A couple of years ago I gave up a really good band I had played with for about 7 years because it conflicted with what was required to pursue a higher degree – a step in a mid-life career change. At that time, I stopped playing and with only a couple of exceptions, haven’t touched an instrument since. Every time I think about picking one back up, something stops me …..

Today, that’s going to change. There’s a 12 string acoustic sitting over there in the corner taunting me, daring me to pick her up ….