Family guitars

I dragged out a guitar the other day and realized that it had been three or four years, at least, since the last time I had laid pick to strings.

There haven’t been a lot of opportunities for picking and, when they have arisen, I’ve mostly worked out on the doghouse bass.

But here I was, fingers flounding around the fretboard and trying to remember where the notes lived.

After a while, my gaze fell upon the two dusty guitar cases in the corner. One holds a mail-order Sears guitar that’s been in my family for 92 years and the other my dad’s old Epiphone.

My aunt Addie ordered the Sears guitar in 1929 for my uncles to play. She was the oldest of 11 and most of them played an instrument or sang.

She died in a car wreck about six months later, but the guitar made the rounds of the familiy for years, finally winding up with my uncle Archie.

After he died, it went to my mother and finally to me.

It’s a parlor guitar with rosewood back and sides and a spruce top and is a treat to play.

Or, at least it was the one time I got to play it. After about five minutes, the bridge began lifting due to the old glue giving way. Before that, though, the guitar vibrated on every strum like a bird taking flight. Truly cool.

Since then, it’s been resting in its case with the strings loosened.

Dad’s guitar was one he bought in 1970 at Smiley’s Guitar House in Ada. He said he played the wall of guitars until he found the one he liked.

It wasn’t a high-end guitar, but it sounded good and was set up for easy playing.

Sometime before Dad died, the neck block split inside the guitar. It needs to be reglued, which I understand isn’t a complicated one, but not something I feel qualified to do.

So, I sat there, remembering all my relatives who have left their fingerprints on those two guitars and thinking I really need to get them fixed.

I know a good luthier in Oklahoma City who would be right for the job, if COVID hasn’t put him out of business.

I think I’ll call in the next day or two and see if he can work me in.