By Jeremy D. Wells
Carter County Times
A couple of weeks ago my cousin reached out to me to ask if I had any of my grandfather’s guitars. Thinking he might be looking for one of them, I sadly told him, “no.”
I had, at one time, owned two of his guitars – an old Ovation acoustic, with the bowl shaped plastic back, and a Hondo semi-hollow body electric – but they had both been stolen out of my storage trailer while I was living in Texas, before I was settled and ready to move all my stuff down. It was sad partly because they had been decent guitars, but mostly because of their heirloom status. My son is already expressing an interest in music, and I had really wanted to be able to give him one of his great-grandpa’s guitars someday.
What happened next, though, was shocking and amazing. My cousin, the one I had thought was looking to find one of our grandpa’s guitars, was actually offering me the last one still available.
We have no idea what kind it is. There is no name on the headstock, and no maker’s label visible inside of the guitar. At one point, according to my cousin, it had belonged to our great uncle Virg – our papaw’s brother-in-law. He’d offered our pa his pick from among some guitars he had available, and pa had chosen this no-name guitar over a Martin and other instruments because he felt it had the best tone.
And, I can say, after changing the strings and replacing one cracked bridge pin, that the tone is indeed rich and full. Even before I changed the strings (coincidentally, with Martin & Co. strings) I could already tell it was a fine instrument. It had sat in my cousin’s closet untouched for the better part of a decade. Even with rusted strings and no real attention, it had stayed nearly in tune within its hard-shell case. I almost tuned it as it was, at first, but I had several packages of unopened strings I’d purchased during a music store closing several years ago, and saw no sense in not giving this guitar a light polish and new strings while I had the chance.
That was when I found the cracked bridge pin, and decided to go ahead and order replacements. But other than these things, which need periodic replacement anyway, there were no problems with the guitar.
I can’t really play it that well – I’m less a guitarist than a mandolin player, and I’m not a particularly good mandolin player – but it feels good to have my grandpa’s guitar in my hands. It has inspired me already to play guitar a little bit more, if only so I can show my son, my grandfather’s namesake, a few basic chord structures when his hands are a little bigger.
I hope that someday he’ll appreciate it just as much as I do, and that it continues to bring joy and music to members of the Wells clan for generations yet to come. It’s already brought some huge grins to his tiny face, while he listens to his daddy try his hand at picking, so it’s off to a good start.
I really can’t thank my cousin Ryan enough for passing it on along, instead of letting it continue to sit in the back of a closet. It was a truly selfless and loving gesture, and one I won’t ever forget.
Guitars are made to be played after all, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do with this one.
Contact the writer at editor@cartercountytimes.com
