Hope I can put this down close to the way it happened.
Yesterday I jammed with a man, a much superior musician, resident in a local nursing home. Jerry's his name, real close to my age, maybe a year or two younger.
Jerry's required nursing care for some time now & he's sick enough it's not at all likely he's going home any time soon. I walked in to his room with my F20 & the D62 cased up and a package of strings for his guitar.
His eyes lit up when he saw the cases & he says, "Looks like there might be some real guitars in those cases." I just said, they're good enough for me, both play better'n I do. We talked a while, replaced the strings on his, guitar, God's honest Truth it's a First Act, Walmart, 29.95 special. It's all he's has, a gift & he's grateful to have it but it's horrible, you can't really tune it.
In deference to his roommate Jerry escorts me and the guitars up front to the little library off the main lobby. Nice room, comfortable furniture, peaceful place. We mess with the First act for about 1.5 minutes & I opened the F20. I show him what I've been doing with it & he picks on it a few minute & asks what is it because of the wierd high stringing. It's all cool & there is no doubt it's in a different league from his First Act guitar
but I can tell it isn't his thing.
I traded him the DV62 & after strummin it for a minute or two he asks, "You mind if I drop tune it" & I said "show me how it's done".
Minute & a half later Jerry breaks in to John Denver's Poems & Prayers & Promises, it fills the room & spills out into the hallway. The man has earned his living most of his life playing music & he's darned good. Amazing voice & nice flat picker.
About halfway to the chorus he chokes up & has to stop, turns the guitar face up & really looks at it for the first time. He's trying to hide it but there are tears in his eyes, & I'm fighting moisture issues of my own.
Some guitars have the magic & some don't. That big Guild has some.
Things recover, he picks a bit & I pick a bit & we pick a bit together for about 45 minutes & attract a little attention. Jerry's blood sugar goes loco again & he has to take a break. I tinkle along by myself for about 45 minutes & go outside for a little fresh air. Nursing homes are hotter than the devil. By now a couple of Wheelchair Minutemen have stationed themselve appropriately & assure me I need not worry about my guitars. Jerry makes it back & we go again for another 45 minutes till he runs out of gas.
Jerry knows a lot of John Denver & does them all well. Throw in my old folk songs, blues & fingerpicking rags & we had a good time. I got to play with a much better musician & Jerry had one of the better days he's had in a long while
A few more smiling faces as I walked out, the biggest one on my homely chin.
It was a good day & we're going to doing it again twice next week, but earlier in the day when he has a bit more endurance.
Jeff
Yesterday I jammed with a man, a much superior musician, resident in a local nursing home. Jerry's his name, real close to my age, maybe a year or two younger.
Jerry's required nursing care for some time now & he's sick enough it's not at all likely he's going home any time soon. I walked in to his room with my F20 & the D62 cased up and a package of strings for his guitar.
His eyes lit up when he saw the cases & he says, "Looks like there might be some real guitars in those cases." I just said, they're good enough for me, both play better'n I do. We talked a while, replaced the strings on his, guitar, God's honest Truth it's a First Act, Walmart, 29.95 special. It's all he's has, a gift & he's grateful to have it but it's horrible, you can't really tune it.
In deference to his roommate Jerry escorts me and the guitars up front to the little library off the main lobby. Nice room, comfortable furniture, peaceful place. We mess with the First act for about 1.5 minutes & I opened the F20. I show him what I've been doing with it & he picks on it a few minute & asks what is it because of the wierd high stringing. It's all cool & there is no doubt it's in a different league from his First Act guitar
but I can tell it isn't his thing.
I traded him the DV62 & after strummin it for a minute or two he asks, "You mind if I drop tune it" & I said "show me how it's done".
Minute & a half later Jerry breaks in to John Denver's Poems & Prayers & Promises, it fills the room & spills out into the hallway. The man has earned his living most of his life playing music & he's darned good. Amazing voice & nice flat picker.
About halfway to the chorus he chokes up & has to stop, turns the guitar face up & really looks at it for the first time. He's trying to hide it but there are tears in his eyes, & I'm fighting moisture issues of my own.
Some guitars have the magic & some don't. That big Guild has some.
Things recover, he picks a bit & I pick a bit & we pick a bit together for about 45 minutes & attract a little attention. Jerry's blood sugar goes loco again & he has to take a break. I tinkle along by myself for about 45 minutes & go outside for a little fresh air. Nursing homes are hotter than the devil. By now a couple of Wheelchair Minutemen have stationed themselve appropriately & assure me I need not worry about my guitars. Jerry makes it back & we go again for another 45 minutes till he runs out of gas.
Jerry knows a lot of John Denver & does them all well. Throw in my old folk songs, blues & fingerpicking rags & we had a good time. I got to play with a much better musician & Jerry had one of the better days he's had in a long while
A few more smiling faces as I walked out, the biggest one on my homely chin.
It was a good day & we're going to doing it again twice next week, but earlier in the day when he has a bit more endurance.
Jeff