Connie

A special thing happened to me one day when I was in junior high school. I went down to my friends' house, Tim and Brock Williams. We had been friends since my family moved into the neighborhood when I was five.

Tim and Brock shared a bedroom. They had cool posters on the walls and rock music was always playing on their record player. They both listened to "heavy metal" rock. In fact, my introduction to Alice Cooper, Black Sabbath, Blue Oyster Cult, etc. took place in that bedroom.

On one momentous day, I went to visit them and Brock had a guitar. He was playing "Iron Man" by Black Sabbath; and I was mesmerized! Shortly thereafter, I asked my dad if I could get a guitar. My dad was close friends with Jack Dew, who owned Dew Music. At that time, Dew Music occupied the building where Zeagler Music is located today. Long story short, my dad brought home an acoustic guitar and my journey began.

My first guitar was manufactured by Conn. If you were ever in band during high school, you've been around Conn instruments. They're better known for their saxophones, horns, etc. For some reason, they decided to enter the guitar business. My guitar was made in Japan and I assume it was produced by a guitar builder that was licensed to make these guitars under the name of Conn. By the way, that happens all the time.

I've always had a special place in my heart for this guitar. I affectionately named her Connie. (How do I come up with these creative names?!?) I probably have written more songs on this guitar than any other one that I own. I learned my first song on her. Brock taught me how to play a rock power chord, namely the root and the fifth for you music geeks. The song..."Not Fragile" by Bachman Turner Overdrive. I played that song for a solid week, every day after school. I literally played the song until my fingers bled. I'll never forget hearing my dad say after day three, "Pard, please learn another song!" I did...the cool rock riff from "Smoke on the Water." I played that for a solid week. Needless to say, I think my dad initially regretted his decision to buy me the guitar. At least, at first he did. I got better and he loved hearing me play.

An interesting thing happened to Connie several years ago. One of John's friends came over to the house and asked me if he could borrow a guitar. He wanted to learn how to play. I really didn't want to let any of them go. But as a Christian, I felt it was my duty. So I allowed "Jim" to take Connie. (My other guitars have "pickups" or microphones built in, and I needed them for playing at church.) I explained that the guitar meant a great deal to me and he should handle her with care. He agreed.

Months turned into years. Every time I'd see "Jim," I'd ask if he was still playing the guitar; and he would immediately change the subject. I wound up regretting ever letting the guitar out of my sight. Then one day, John called and said he had a present for me. When I arrived home, John was holding Connie. "Jim" had moved and left the guitar, unattended, inside the BCM on ULM's campus. She was dirty and had a huge crack on the bridge. The crack caused the strings to buzz every time you strummed her. I was pleased to have her back, but upset that "Jim" had not cared for her.

I took her to Hilton Lytle's house last summer and showed him the crack. He looked at it and said he knew of a solution. I figured the cost would be more than the guitar. However, Hil took the strings off, went to his shop, and asked me to hold the guitar while he started his belt sander. Now get this picture, here's an eighty-three year old man with a high-powered sander about to unleash it on my beloved Connie. I held my breath! Before he put the sander down, he warned me that it would probably change the color of the bridge; but not to fret, because we could repaint it. I nodded and he gently placed the sander against the bridge. Dust started flying everywhere...toxic dust! I found it hard to breathe. A few minutes later, he lifted the sander and, as the dust settled, this beautiful rosewood bridge emerged. Turns out that the crack was only skin-deep. The reason I was choking is because rosewood dust particles can irritate the lungs. Neither he nor I expected the bridge to be made of rosewood. Usually, on inexpensive guitars, they use a cheaper wood...especially since they paint over it. Well, the Japanese company that produced this guitar used rosewood for the bridge and painted it black. What a crime!!! Hil deduced that they were using whatever was available in the shop and were building it to Conn's specifications, which included a black bridge. We polished it, restrung it, and Hil made a few other adjustments. When I picked up Connie and started playing her, this wonderful tone came out of her. Hil and I both marveled at the rosewood bridge. It's so beautiful...it's like we found a diamond in the rough! Hil's charge for the work....$0.00!

So like most things in life, when something bad happens, God can make it good. I changed my mind and learned that it was a blessing that I had enough faith to let "Jim" borrow the guitar. It was a blessing that I had enough faith to let Hil hold a high speed sander to Connie. God is always teaching us and God is good!