Two of my guitars…

This is inspired by my friend Christine (Tine) Hughes…

I have two guitars that I haul around with me to shows that I go to. These two have been on a lot of road trips and train rides with me.

This is my little Martin. I wanted to have something that I could take on my train trips. The gig bag that came with holds this and enough underwear for a week.

This is my pimped out Taylor. The artwork is by my good friend Ben Dewey. He also is the artist that drew the facebook profile picture of me. He introduced me to artists that I had never heard of before. If you think his inking, pencil, and acrylic work is fantastic, then you ought to hear what he can do with a guitar or a Dobro. He is my friend my, brother, and I love him very much.

If either of these two could talk they would be talking for days about the artists that have touched them. I will share a few stories about the signatures on them in my blog from time to time.

First story. This signing is Laura Veirs.

I met her after one of her shows here in Cleveland at The Beachland Tavern few years ago. I mentioned to her about my Taylor guitar and the picture of Mississippi John Hurt on the face of it. I told her that I could hear a bit of his influence in her guitar playing. She said that was true. She is also a huge lover of his art too. That first conversation was brief.

Flash forward about a year later. Laura was playing at The Grog Shop. During the gear swap out between bands I saw Laura sitting by the merch table. I walked over to her. She remembered my name and me. We chatted a bit and I took out the guitar from the gig bag that it was in to show her. She loved it. I asked her if she would sign it. I wanted her to sign it on the top. She did not want to at first because she said she did not want to ruin the artwork. I told her that it would only embellish it. She smiled and took the Sharpie that I gave her. I told her thanks. By that time she said it was time for her to go get ready to play so we said bye, and she gave me a hug.

Laura’s set was wonderful… she played mostly new material, from her new (at that time) CD. Then she left the stage. She got a really nice response from the audience, and came back out for her encore. She walked up to the mic and said thanks to the crowd for their support and love. Then she said: “ This is for my friend Darrell he’s here somewhere.” You can’t see a damn thing when on stage with the lights hitting you in the face. Then she started picking a Mississippi John Hurt tune. I was speechless. She played a couple more of her songs then left the stage. She came back out after a few minutes when the house lights came on and the house music started. She came over to the merch table where people where waiting to chat with her and some of their stuff signed. I tipped my hat to her and waved goodbye. She smiled and waved back.

I have not seen her in a while. If she comes to a city near you, I do recommend that you check her out. She is a very gifted artist and she continues to inspire me every time I pick up a guitar.

More than a rank and a SSN.

I spent a good deal of time this past Thursday afternoon at The VA Medical Center here in Cleveland. I am in need of new glasses and since I have no other health care options, I am using this benefit. I am grateful that I have this available to me. There are so many that have no options at all.

While waiting for my glasses I decided that I would sit and talk to any vet that “looked” like they wanted to talk.

The first person that I struck up a conversation with was a woman that was just recently discharged from the Army. She was waiting for her turn to get some blood work done. She was a bit pissed about the wait. I asked what she did when she was in the army. She said that she was pretty much a vehicle driver. She talked about the time she spent in the Middle East, and how everyday was a “will this be the day that I get blown the fuck up.” She cussed a lot… I mean more than I do. It is common for profanity to be a “second language” in the military.

She seemed a bit restless. She would not sit for too long. In mid sentence for no apparent reason she would get up and start to walk around. I got up too and followed her (I was now on her six…) she kept talking… she knew where I was and she never looked back… she just kept talking. She was bitter. She had hoped that being a vet would open some doors for her when she “got back to the world.” She said that it was like no one gives a shit about what we have done… the sacrifices that we made. She said “we” a lot. There is a certain kind of "we" that comes with a military life, especially amongst combat vets.

She turned around and started walking back to where we were. I waited… she seem to want to be “on point” so I fell back. She sat back down and asked the person behind the window if she would be seen soon. The person behind the window asked what every person behind the window asks… “Last four?” Meaning what are the last four digits of your social security number. The person behind the window said “not yet.”

For the first time she seem to be a little calmer now. She looked at me. This was the first time that we really made eye contact. She said “you know what?” “What?” I ask. She said that she was sick of being a “number” and a “rank.”

Some time had past and we did not talk much more.

It dawned on me at that moment that I had not asked her what her name was… I asked and she said that her name was Angela but her friends called her Angie. I asked her if I could call her Angie. She said yes. I told her my name was Darrell.

The person at the window called her name. She stood up and walk through the door that was “buzzed” opened for her to enter. I stood up and started leave.

As I was walking away I heard the door open again. There stood Angie. She looked at me and simply said, “thanks Darrell.” I looked at her and said “thank you too Angie.” That was enough said.

The DUI Jar..

Some time ago I came to use this tool as a way of tracking personal growth. I am not sure where the concept came from, but it has helped me in ways that I can’t express in words.

Anyway, I have this big jar. I call it the D.U. I. jar. It has nothing to do with driving under the influence. It is my “Don’t Understand It” jar. Here is how I use it. Whenever I come across something that I do not understand, I find a piece of paper and I write this “thing” down, and then I put the piece of paper in the jar. I have been doing this for at least fifteen years. Needless to say, the jar has a lot of pieces of paper in it.

It is my hope that when I die, the jar will still have a lot of pieces of paper in it. There is so much that I do not understand. Most of the time, during the course of any given day, I may write down several things. Take today for example. I wrote this down…. “I have no understanding of why I feel the way I do about someone I have never actually met. “ I also wrote this: “I have no understanding of the CAGED system.” That first one will probably be in the jar for a long time. The second one may not be in there too long.

Every now and then when I feel that I am not growing as a person. I go to the jar and start pulling out the pieces of paper and read them. I repeat this until I find one that has something written down that I now have an understanding of. After reading it. I throw it away.

This exercise has served me well.

In wonderland… again

I have shared this with some of you before. At times, I can hear/see chords, notes, and tones as colors. It is not something that I can control and it does not happen all of the time. Also, some of you have heard me share that sometimes I can see or perhaps a better way of explaining this is to say “sense” what I have come to understand as a persons’ aura. This ability has been with me for some time.

A few days ago a woman walked into Heights Guitars she had a very bright light. I have only seen a light like this a few times in my life. A calm came over me and I was drawn to this woman. Not in a sexual way… it is something that I do not understand. I do not question it, and I rarely talk about it. The light is not constant… it comes then it goes.

Anyway I started to talk to this woman about her quest to find an instrument that she could travel with on an upcoming journey. We talked for a while and I knew right away that there was only one guitar in the shop that should be in her hands.

I showed and played other guitars for her. The next guitar that I wanted to show her was “the” guitar. It was on the other side of the room we were in. Before I could get it for her, she stood up, took off her coat, walked over to this guitar. Picked it up and walked back to the chair she was sitting in and with the touch of a healer, she began to finger pick this instrument. The light was back only it was different.

She told me that she loved this instrument but it was still a little more than she should spend. I have a fiduciary responsibility to the owners of the store and because of this there was nothing that I could do about the price.

I looked at her, and she at me for what seemed like a really long time. She handed the instrument to me and put back on her coat. She said that it was very nice to have met me, and that she would be back. She told me her name was Alice, and she extended her hand. I told her my name was Darrell, and I extended both of my hands, palms up, wanting nothing, expecting nothing. She came closer and we embraced in a warm and receiving hug. Nothing else was said. She walked out the door; I was looking at her while she was leaving. She looked backed and we both smiled.

I told my friend Sam (she is the district manager of this and the shop in Toledo) that this guitar was going to be Alice’s’ guitar.

Several days passed and the guitar was still in the shop and Alice had not returned. Others had come into the store and looked and played this instrument. No light. None of any kind. I began to think about buying the guitar myself, this would be the only way I could hold on to it until Alice returned.

This past Tuesday, Alice came back… with her light. She looked at me and said I came back for my guitar. I told her that I felt that she would be back. I told her of my intention to buy the guitar to secure it for her. She asked what would I have done if she did not return. I do not remember what my answer was. Actually I do not remember much at all after the two of them were together.

She told me about the adventure to India that she was about to embark on. I told her that I wanted to give her a gift to take with her. I may have something that will fit the bill. I will bring it to the shop. I asked her to stop by before she left on her journey. She said that she would.

I look forward to seeing Alice again. Until then I am enjoying this moment in wonderland.

Letting go...

Pining is something that I do not relish in. Yet pining I was. Like most things you can continue on a path or you can deviate. Pining is a physical action and I could choose to cease whenever I wanted to. My fear was that if I made such a choice the “color” would change or leave me altogether, and that there would be a “hole” in my heart. Not so… the color and all of the warmth is still there. Yet something is different. The anxiety and fear has gone. The heart has compenstated. Letting go is such a cool and cleansing thing!

Sometimes it is not what someone does or says… it’s what is not done or spoken. Clarity is beautiful! Life is good… on with life!