When I was growing up my father never played the guitar. I knew that in the past he had played a lot. Lately, I’ve gotten it into my head to learn to play. My father kindly lent me one of his old guitars. I brought it with me to Edmonton after my last visit to their home.
Unfortunately I couldn’t get it opened. The lock on it didn’t have a key to go with it.
I took it to work with me today because there is a locksmith nearby. While there, a co-worker showed me that no key is actually required. You just need to push the lock to the side and it opens.
Then things got interesting.
The guitar in question is a Martin. Research by co-workers shows that it was made in 1958. The finish on it is Brazillian rosewood. That is from an endangered species and hasn’t been used since the 1960s. They were all amazed at it, and somewhat jealous.
I took it to a guitar store after work. They were practically drooling over it. It was in nearly mint condition. A few minor repairs were needed, and I’ve left it with them. I’m not keeping it as an investment, I got it to play with.
The sad thing is that I found out my father hasn’t played regularly with it since 1961. He used to love to play, but six months after his honeymoon he got so busy that he hasn’t had time since. So I missed a huge part of my father’s life.