Yes indeed, my old friend Gibbie is
back home in West
Virginia now. My sometimes wavering faith in humankind is renewed by
the actions of this stranger.
Here is the short version: A young man
is in the company of
friends and friends of friends. A kid of
seventeen has this old beat looking Gibson and he doesn't even play,
just beginning. When asked about the guitar, the kid says
he found it in a parking lot in Annapolis on New Year's Eve. This
obviously sounded suspect and through the conversation the
young man decides he needs to try reunite the guitar with its rightful
owner. He Googles for stolen guitar, 1954 Gibson, etc. and got my
contact info through one of several online postings we'd made.
I drove over yesterday to Pasedena MD,
met the young
aspiring newgrass musician in dreadlocks and was just amazed that it
really was Gibbie. A few pick scratches that were uncharacteristic of
my style seemed to be the only wear and tear. It was in tune
so I know the young man had played it a bit. I would have, too. He was
getting ready to hitchhike to the Bonneroo festival in TN,
so the money I gave him may serve some purpose.
I told him how long I had lived with
Gibbie and how I had
mostly given up on getting him back. I said "I thought the chances of
seeing Gibbie again were slim and none. You turned out to be the slim
chance." He said "there's still some of us out there."
Anyway, I got home and played a little
while, then changed
the strings and played some more. He sounds wonderful. My son Jacob
stopped by and played him too. It was like a homecoming for a lost
member of the family. I had written a song about Gibbie a while
back but just couldn't get the last verse right. Maybe now....
Best regards,
K
