Relationship with Strings Attached

I have had a long love affair with stringed instruments especially guitars.  I love guitars especially Fender guitars.  I have owned several Fender guitars but never had the time or patience to learn more than basic chords.  I do like just having one.  Keeping a dream alive I guess.

I remember making guitars out of cardboard and wood when I was a child.  I remember being at Dudley McNeil's house making the guitars.  I also remember making instruments, especially a clarinet, out of wood and cardboard for a Roadshow performance at Church.  We cardboard/wood synced to "Baby Elephants Walk".

I played the cello for about 5 years but the guitar is really the instrument that intrigues me.  I saved up my money in junior high and bought a Fender Stratocaster copy from from a pawn shop on Main Street.  I started a band with three other guys and we named our band "Avocado Machine Gun".  I played that guitar until my fingers bled.  It didn't help the neck of the guitar was not adjusted correctly and the strings were too far from the neck.  I don't remember what happened to the guitar but the band broke up when my family moved away from Boise.

Nowadays I stay away from the guitar stores as I fear I will buy another guitar.  A Fender guitar.  A Fender Telecaster Thinline with the hollow body and the humbucking pickups.  Maybe I would find the time to practice and take lessons this time.

Yeah, I know.

Old Man River

The Outdoorsman

When I was 16 years old, I rafted the Middle Fork of the Salmon with my father.  It was organized by the Boy Scouts of America and it lasted a week.  The water was so high and fast that I broke two paddles just moving water.  The water was so pure you could dip your cup and drink right out of the river.

I was in a four man raft with my father, another male adult and another kid, Doug,  from my hometown at the time.  The rest of the expedition was all kids from California.  At the beginning of the trip, my Dad was cooking for just the three of us, Doug, Dad and I.  By the end of the trip, he was cooking for everyone after the Californians discovered how much better we were eating.  I guess not all Californians are space cadets.

One day we all climbed up to some cliffs to see some ancient Indian markings.  It was all pretty cool and we started back to the river.  My Dad stepped on the same flat rock as everyone else did on the way down.  Except this time the rock moved sending my Dad flying.  Dad said he saw the sky twice as he somersaulted down the mountain.  I thought he was badly hurt for sure.  His guardian angel was with him that day... as he dusted himself off, and to our amazement, he was uninjured and unmarked.  Ask me sometime and I will tell you what saved him.  Too sacred to write about here.

Every time we hit a big rapid, the male adult with us would grab Doug and take him out of the boat with him.  At the end of the trip, Doug would turn white just seeing a picture of rapids on the wall of the cafe.  My father accused me of having suction cups on my epidermis as I stuck to the boat every time.  I ended up having to paddle the raft to the shore, full of water, every time everyone else was ejected.  The only time I left the boat was when I reached out to "save" a huge California Highway cop from a rock he was stranded upon.  I grabbed him and remained in that position as the boat went on by leaving me hanging on the guy.  Like a cartoon.

Towards the end of the trip, it was customary to jump off a high railway bridge to complete one's anointing as a "river rat".  The first jump was really scary as it was high and the river was fast.  But when you jumped and hit the water, you were "whooshed" down river  by the fast water.  It was a rush. My father had no intention of jumping as he had done it before on previous trips.  The float leadership declared they did not want any adults jumping as they were afraid they might be injured and their presence as chaperones came first.  Well, my Dad went right up to the bridge and jumped off.  I had laugh about that as it was amusing they were going to tell my Dad what to do.

I had my Dad all to myself for a whole week.  'Nuff said.

Yeah, I know...

Another Old Friend Passes

I guess as you get older Life starts taking instead of always giving.  The motor finally went out on my truck that was been with me for 32 years.  I sold it to someone who has the heart for rebuilds.  Not me.  My friend, thanks for all the great work and memories.