I know it’s 7 years bad luck when you break a mirror. So, how much is it for breaking your father’s guitar?
I was noodling around with writing some tunes today, and I set the beat-up, old Guild that I inherited from my father on its guitar stand. As I walked away, I had one of those slow-motion moments where I thought, “That really isn’t very stable…”, and I turned just in time to see it fall flat face-down on the floor. The headstock split right down the middle, and half of it lay apart from the rest of the instrument–attached only by three strings.
It wasn’t a great guitar. It might have been in its day, but its day had long passed. My dad rescued it from a fire, and he tried to rebuild it. However, he was no expert at such matters. So, it was kind of a Frankenstein’s monster of a thing. A walking dead guitar. But it played alright.
Not long after he died, I took it from his place, and when I got it home, I sat and strummed it in the dark, crying as the ingrained smell of cigarettes and Old Spice hit me.
So, I’m now down one acoustic guitar and one heirloom (such as it was). I still might try to glue it together just as a memento, but it’s never going to play like this again, I fear: Eli the Barrow Boy.mp3