MARTIN 000-18
Another tale of ambivalence, dementia and serendipity:
In 1970 having just exited a two-year stint in the Peace Corps, I found myself employed in a strange land I knew nothing of. But that's another tale. Within months of starting my first job post Peace Corps, I met a woman who would become my wife. Being a child of the sixties, I was completely enmeshed in folk music. My wife would play this guitar and had a beautiful singing voice. So I was basically ensnared by her modest guitar playing and her beautiful voice.
We got married. Both worked and then came a kid, and at some point the guitar got put in the closet never to be enjoyed or exercised. Once or twice over the years I thought I would teach myself to play it. My wife tried to teach me some music, but I have a unique inability to understand music. So my love of music never got translated to an ability to make it.
So, about ten days ago, I pulled the guitar out and decided it deserved better. I did a little research to ascertain an approximate value, took some pics of it, and listed it on Craig's List.
Within hours a gentlemen contacted me requesting a bit more info, and then decided he would drive 4 and a half hours to see it and possibly purchase it. The next morning Lou arrived at my house at 8:30 A.M. having left his house in the wee hours. By his own admission he is not a great artist, and his playing has been exclusively electric guitars and heavy metal music.
It was great to watch him finger the guitar and play some chords. After about an hour of slowly growing more acquainted with the instrument, he said, "Deal." We did not haggle over price, and off he went with a piece of our lives. The wife and I felt rather sad that we had parted with it, but glad that Lou truly appreciated the history of both Martin guitars, and the Meyer family dynamic.
A day or so later Lou sent me a video of his good friend who had advised him on Martin guitars, playing the instrument.
Lou was excited to begin his transition to acoustic and non-rock music. It's kind of bittersweet for me. Transitions are always difficult.
MARTIN 000-18
Another tale of ambivalence, dementia and serendipity:
In 1970 having just exited a two-year stint in the Peace Corps, I found myself employed in a strange land I knew nothing of. But that's another tale. Within months of starting my first job post Peace Corps, I met a woman who would become my wife. Being a child of the sixties, I was completely enmeshed in folk music. My wife would play this guitar and had a beautiful singing voice. So I was basically ensnared by her modest guitar playing and her beautiful voice.
We got married. Both worked and then came a kid, and at some point the guitar got put in the closet never to be enjoyed or exercised. Once or twice over the years I thought I would teach myself to play it. My wife tried to teach me some music, but I have a unique inability to understand music. So my love of music never got translated to an ability to make it.
So, about ten days ago, I pulled the guitar out and decided it deserved better. I did a little research to ascertain an approximate value, took some pics of it, and listed it on Craig's List.
Within hours a gentlemen contacted me requesting a bit more info, and then decided he would drive 4 and a half hours to see it and possibly purchase it. The next morning Lou arrived at my house at 8:30 A.M. having left his house in the wee hours. By his own admission he is not a great artist, and his playing has been exclusively electric guitars and heavy metal music.
It was great to watch him finger the guitar and play some chords. After about an hour of slowly growing more acquainted with the instrument, he said, "Deal." We did not haggle over price, and off he went with a piece of our lives. The wife and I felt rather sad that we had parted with it, but glad that Lou truly appreciated the history of both Martin guitars, and the Meyer family dynamic.
A day or so later Lou sent me a video of his good friend who had advised him on Martin guitars, playing the instrument.
Lou was excited to begin his transition to acoustic and non-rock music. It's kind of bittersweet for me. Transitions are always difficult.