This Old Guitar

This is a fictional story that I entered into a contest. It didn’t win, but I paid the judge for a critique, so this is an updated story based on that critique. Tell me what you think.

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This Old Guitar

Music took hold of me at the age of seven. Everyone needs to feel special. Music did that for me. I had friends, but I always felt like an outsider. I never fit in, just tagged along. No one bothered you when you were the kid in the background. I was a supporting character, the wallpaper in their lives. 

I was like my dad in so many ways and felt like he understood me. He gave me

my first guitar, one that he bought for himself when he was a teenager. 

In 1970 Dad paid $100 for a used Ibanez steel-string acoustic guitar with a

 rosewood body and ebony fretboard. Today it’s worth five times that depending on the condition. The fret markers are an octagonal design instead of diamonds or rectangles, which doesn’t affect the sound but makes it unique. A few pick scratches on the front and a small divot on the back, but the tone is sweet. It's a good old guitar, and most importantly, it was my dad's. 

He encouraged me to play. His support was always there when I needed it, 

something his parents never did for him. I practiced hours on end and learned my identity was connected to music. I didn’t join a band. I played for myself, not others. It felt like a therapy session for my confidence each time I played.

My grades in school improved, and I found new friends who shared my

interests. Dad was so inspired by the change in my attitude that he bought a new guitar for himself, and I became his teacher. I played with my friends, but I mostly enjoyed picking tunes with my dad.

We both looked forward to our sessions, learning new songs and connecting in a

 way some kids never understood but envied. It’s hard to explain, but the energy between us changed. We became closer. Music brought us together.   

Dad didn't like the new age rock, hip-hop, or any of today's music. He liked the

 old classic tunes of John Denver, Bob Dylan, Jim Croce, and James Taylor. There were many others, so it was easy for me to find songs that I enjoyed playing with him.

When Dad passed away, he left his guitar to Henry, my ten-year-old son.

He'd seen us play before and learned to appreciate music. I proudly play this old guitar and teach my son to play his, just as I did with my dad. Music brought me a calm sense of satisfaction and helped me bond with dad. 

My daughter Stella celebrated her thirteenth birthday, but she has no interest

in the guitar. She prefers drums. No surprise! She was constantly beating on something - pots and pans, furniture, sometimes her brother. So finally, I bought her a set of drums, and she’s happy being a drummer girl - Henry’s even happier. I guess it’s time for me to start a band, a family band. We’ll call it “The Connection.”

 

“You’re okay. Just rub it off.”

That was the motto for my family. Sure as a kid it probably hurt, but that wasn’t discussed unless it required hospitalization. I know to some that may sound harsh, but it did toughen kids up a bit. 

     How many times do kids fall and stumble then look at their parents to see a reaction? Quite a lot I believe. A good parent wants to be protective but it takes a lot of skills, and holding back your emotions when kids get bumps and bruises is tricky. Sometimes it’s necessary to pull back and let a child experience life so they grow strong and resilient.

     I see my granddaughter, Stella run around bumping and bouncing off of objects. Most times after she stumbles or falls she will hold her hands up and says, “I’m okay.” She has learned that it’s okay to stumble and fall as long as you get up and continue. Before you ask, yes, sometimes she cries and needs to be consoled by mom or dad, but it doesn’t slow her down in her quest for fun.

     Stella frequently wears a band-aid from some recent bump. It’s like a badge of honor. When I ask her what happened, she says, “I hurt me” so I rub her injury and say “You’re okay.”

     Maybe this is something we need to remember as adults. So when you stumble or fall in life, remember you’re okay, so rub it off. “Just Saying . . . “

Circus Boy

I was born into the circus life. As a twelve-year-old boy it’s what I knew and all I cared about. My parents were high-wire artists under the big top. Like any kid, I had chores, but mine came from the ringmaster. I helped take care of the animals, fed them and cleaned their cages, but also assisted with setup for many acts, a young boy's dream. It was a great life, but not a typical family. I longed for a brother or sister. 

The colorful triangular pennants strung around the circus boundaries from tent to 

tent gave an air of excitement as you entered. We had many visitors, but Sarah was exceptional. She was a six-year-old and thrilled about life and everything in it. Her dad held her hand tightly in a protective way. I could see the love he had for her by the way he smiled when he was with her. She was interested in the performers, the jugglers, trapeze artists, knife throwers, and contortionists, any and all of the entertainers. I wasn't one, just a circus boy that took care of the animals, no one important, but that made no difference to Sarah because I was part of the circus.

Sarah and her dad, Stan, came to the circus many times that season, and her

enthusiasm never diminished. Stan was a good father, when he was around but also a gambler and played poker every chance he got. He would often play with some of the circus carnies, but those games could get rough. Stan paid me to watch Sarah when there was a game on the circus grounds. I didn't mind; Mom and Dad were my only family and watching Sarah made me feel like a big brother. I was happy to show her the secrets behind the scenes. 

 Her dad would always pick her up after the card game, but one night he didn't 

return, so we went looking but found no sign of him. The guys he played poker with knew nothing about his whereabouts. They said Stan left the game a winner, and was in good spirits. Sarah stayed with my parents and me that night, but she didn't sleep, none of us did. 

Days, weeks, and months went by, and still, her father didn't return. Sarah was

becoming part of our family. I called her Sis and believed she thought of me as her brother. When she became sad, I tried to comfort her. I didn't want her to leave. I didn't want her father to return, and I felt guilty because I knew he never would. 

What I did was wrong, but it's better for Sarah this way. With us, she has a real

family, a mom, dad, and brother. Once summer arrived the circus moved north to a new town, so I’m safe now. They’ll never find him. 

I'm a circus boy, and now I have a sister. 

Government sponsored Programs

I have long questioned the intelligence of our government leaders, but they continue to amaze me. They inspired me to write this political post and I rarely comment on politics. This new program to promote vaccines is the exception. Joints for Jabs also called Pot for Shots in the state of Washington and a few other states makes me wonder if politicians know anything at all about life. 

     I guess it’s easier to bribe people rather than inspire them. I know bribery has been around a long time and I’m sure our government has a history with it, but this is a seriously stupid program. I am ashamed of our government. The politicians promoting this should voted out of office.

     In California the incentive to get vaccinated is a million $ lottery for those people that get shots. Oh! No, it does not include those that have voluntarily been vaccinated, just the people that are being bribed to get a shot.

     A friend recently said, “It’s the deterioration of the fabric of our society.” He’s right and I think it’s being led by politicians. “ Just Saying…”

     

Look for the Joy

Life is short and too precious to be brought down negativity. This world is not perfect and it never will be, but if you let the bad things take over your life the joy will leave you. I decided it’s time for me make the best of life by doing what I like, learning new things, spending time with family or friends. 

     We all like to be entertained, that’s why we watch television, go to concerts, comedy theaters and watch sports. The list of things that entertain us is long. I am not interested in being bombarded with political opinions in my entertainment choices, so I have been watching less network television. For me there’s too many shows that feel they need to preach their message. I watch TV to be entertained. If I wanted a sermon on a social issue, I would seek it out, but it would not be from Hollywood. 

     Lucky for me I have other interest that fill my life, so if all the negative junk on the Internet or TV bothers me, I simply turn them off.

     There’s many fun and interesting things to do or see in life, so I will not waste my time. This is my choice, it can be your choice too.

     Turn off the TV and turn on your life. “Just saying . . .”