Maybe It’s Good When Your Guitar Gently Weeps

Guest Post By- Dennis Elton Stanley

Not everyone knows this about me but when I was a young man living in Memphis, I played in a rock band. We sported various names you never heard of, but I like to think we were a little more than a garage band.

For several years we played every weekend in some clubs, community centers, parties, and dances. Battle of the bands was extremely popular back then. We never won first place but were usually second or third among dozens of competing groups.

I played bass guitar and was having the time of my life with dreams of becoming a rock star. We even had a few “groupies” that followed us to all our performances.

My wife Liz did not care for them (or my ego) as she labeled them a “sad bunch of girls.” (I cleaned that quote up some)

Get a Real Job Long Hair!

Soon, with the responsibilities of married life, our first child on the way, and because becoming a rockstar was not working for me, I had to get an actual paying job.

Since that time, I have always worked one, or two, and occasionally three jobs. When no job was available, I created jobs and worked for myself. But the love of music has always been inside me and part of my life.

I never stopped playing guitar and Liz loved to hear me play and sing for her in the evenings.

The Day The Music Died

After her passing, I stopped playing. It was the day the music died for me, which is the title of a song you may have heard.

A year or so later I began to have a recurring dream of me playing and singing with Liz sitting in her recliner crying. This would have been a normal evening for us, except for the crying.

Dreams never make sense, but I just laughed thinking maybe the dream meant I had been torturing her with my singing. I have an extensive vinyl LP collection of about 200 in number, mostly oldies, heavy on the Beatles, some are exceedingly rare. I had not spun a single LP either since the day the music died.

Starting Over

I had started going to church and sometimes people would go upfront, play guitar, and sing. It sounded so beautiful that I was finally motivated to pick up my guitar one evening.

The old guitar had been sitting for several years so it sounded horrible as the strings were dead. It was kinda like taking a drink of milk and then realizing it has gone sour.

Anyway, I began and have been playing again for about three years which brings me to the point of my article; All through my fifty or so years of pickin’ guitars, they have all been the cheapest ones available.

My first one was $59 I think from Sears. Recently I struggled, prayed, and came to a decision. I would finally buy myself a nice guitar.

I will not mention the brand but if you know anything about guitars, you know good ones can get awfully expensive. Could I afford it? Not really. Could the money be better spent? Of course!

I’ll Be Opening My Heart Here

When it finally arrived, I unpacked it and opened the case. It was the most beautiful guitar I had ever seen. Photos are inadequate. I was afraid to pick it up.

But after staring down at it for a long time I gently lifted it out and that is when I noticed, that even the inside of the case was magnificent. I played a familiar tune, but the sound was anything but familiar.

The notes rang out clear and pure, and they seemed to just linger forever in the air. My fingers did not even struggle to make the chords.

But before the song was over my eyes welled up and I began to cry, and then I was totally overcome.

My eyes probably watered up for the beauty and sounds of the guitar, but then there was just so much more.

My mind was suddenly reeling with the guilt of spending that much money on myself. I knew I did not play well enough to deserve such an instrument and I thought about sending it back.

Then I thought; why had I waited so long for something I loved so much? Obviously, I was very shaken up and confused but what broke my heart and made me “lose it” was knowing that Liz would absolutely love hearing me play this wonderful and beautiful guitar.

Eighteen Hours Ago

When I regained my composure and was able to think clearly, that old dream came to mind with Liz crying in her recliner while I played guitar.

Honestly, I had not thought about it before, but those dreams had gone away about the time I began to play my old guitar three years ago. Maybe dreams sometimes do have meaning.

And maybe Lizzy really is here with me listening to our new guitar.

True Story:

This happened exactly 18 hours ago as I finish this writing. It happened just as written and my reactions took me by complete surprise. I am now happy and comfortable that the new guitar was the right decision.

About Guest Author– Dennis Elton Stanley- He is a 69-year-old widower. Still working full-time as an engineer in healthcare. He competes in long-distance speed walking, hiking, photography, and musician, and he loves to write. “I am very busy”– as he says.

• Visit his website- The Daily Sinner– https://thedailysinner.blog/

More From Dennis –

• Do You Believe In Love At First Sight?
• Swimming Against The Waves
• Photo-Hiking: The Art Of Being Alive

Want to publish your post and story?

Visit all other Guest Posts here

Wants to say something like “Hello”? Mail us at Namaskar@theblogera.com