Granny's Gang Guitar Band

After reading a recent blog by Guitarfix on Writingup, I wish I had waited a little longer to dispose of the guitar I tried to revamp.

The 7th grade Sunday School class I taught wanted to start a guitar band. And, guess what, they wanted me to be a part of it! Most of them already had access to a guitar they could use and, stashed around my house was a motley assortment of old guitars that could be loaned to students who needed them. We would have a ball.

I decided to make my old guitar into an object of envy; something that would stir their little minds into action to help make our group stand out from every other group in town.

We would practice together a couple of hours each week and individually at home. We would get so good that people would hear about us and invite us to perform at their churches. We might even get so good that the Chamber Of Commerce would invite us to play for them. (Getting an invite from The C of C in our town was tantamount to an invitation to dinner at the White House.)

I set to work on renovating my old guitar. I had no idea the work that is involved in such a task. I applied paint remover and waited for the project to dry. I daubed and gobbed paint and waited for that to dry. Dissatisfied with the result, I applied more paint remover and repeated the process more times than I care to remember.

After a frustrating month of working on my guitar, and relying on an older one for our practices, I gave up and pronounced it done.

Actually, it looked kind of cute from a distance with all the flower decals and blue and red paint, but up close, it was downright dangerous, and, to be honest, somewhat hideous. I gave up that part of my dream and donated the magnificent piece of art to our local Goodwill.

For more than six months, it sat in the front window of the Goodwill Store as though to mock me as I drove by. It was easy to recognize, even from the far side of the street. How could you not recognize the psychedelic instrument with 5 inch daisies sprinkled all over it, not to mention the hand-woven shoulder strap done in purple and orange? It was a traffic stopper all right, and I couldn’t imagine why it hadn’t been snapped up by some instrument loving minstrel the very first day.

Finally, it disappeared. I'm not sure who worked up the courage to take it home and make yet another attempt to restore it. Every now and then, I drive past the empty window and wonder if perhaps the manager of the Goodwill decided to dump it instead, but I much to prefer to believe that it was purchased by a world-renowned musician who saw its potential, restored it, and now carries it in a special satin lined case to concerts wherever he goes.