Saturday, April 23, 2011

Casualty of Conflict - Taylor Comes Home

Taylor, my angel, was a casualty of conflict, a prisoner of war, and by war I mean a fairly amicable divorce between two people that loved each other, respected each other, and didn’t want to hurt each other. Like any child, Taylor was the one piece of the separation that we could not agree on, and ultimately I caved, a decision I have regretted since 2004.

Taylor, you see, was my 1996 Taylor 412. I purchased her from my good friend Rob Woerther for $500 back in 2000, right after Angela and I were married.



For those that are wondering, did your ex play guitar? The answer is no. For those that just shook your heads in disgust, thinking why the hell would she take your guitar, I will explain. At the time, Angela was interested in learning to play guitar, and I needed a second acoustic for live shows so I could keep one tuned to DADGAD which is an alternate tuning that I often use when writing songs. That being said, in the 4 years we were married, she played the guitar for a grand total of 11 hours, 17 minutes, and 34 seconds. I may have been a bit generous there. While I understand that she wants to learn to play, if you are living with a musician who is more than willing to teach you, and you don’t do it, you are never going to learn. In her mind it was her Taylor because she was bought, in part, so she could learn to play. In my mind, she was my kid. I was the one that held her when she cried, changed her diapers, kept her hydrated and fed…she was my go to guitar. I wrote 3 albums on her, toured over 8 states with her. She is me.



However, when it came down to it, I turned my back on her to keep the peace. I mean she is just a guitar, right? I have tons of them. Well, the problem is, of all my guitars, Taylor is my favorite. I even have another Taylor. It is a 410CE from the same year, but there is something about this guitar. Maybe it’s the combination of Rob’s energy and mine that has seeped into her beautiful mahogany. I don’t know. She is just a very special.



To her credit, Angela offered to let me buy her several times over the years, but I wouldn’t do it. It was a matter of principle for me. She was my guitar, like paying to sleep with your own wife (yeah, I know what I just said…it made sense in my head. I am just going to leave it alone), but I just could not find a replacement. The number of guitars that I have bought and sold in an attempt to replace this beauty is staggering…seriously. At one point, I bought a brand new Taylor 412ce. I mean it is the SAME. GUITAR. Right? No. Again, there is something special about her.

As you may or may not know, Angela now works at my office (yes, I knew she was applying, even helped her through the process and served as a reference…we have never not been cool to one another, this is the kind of people we are). We bump into each other from time to time, so sometime around September I decided I needed Taylor back. I just couldn’t be without her, like she had been held in some P.O.W. camp, and I was determined to free her at any cost (well any may be a stretch). Angela and I went back and forth. I told her what she was worth; she had some “people” give her an assessed value; I busted out the Blue Book value on her, and it seemed like we were at a stalemate. But I had to MalcomX the situation, by any means necessary. So a couple of weeks ago I shot her one final offer. The text read, “$XXX (all you need to know is I bought her back for more than we paid for her) for Taylor…what say you.” She took a few days to respond. I had almost lost hope, but she rolled into to my office on Monday to let me know we had a deal. Taylor came home on Thursday, and I couldn’t be happier.

Rather than post a poem, I thought I would post a video so you could hear her. I recorded this this afternoon. Thought it would be good closure. "Picture Frame" was written on Taylor a few months after my divorce. Enjoy.

1 comment:

  1. I am glad to hear the Taylor is with it's rightful owner. The story just adds to the mojo.
    blessings,
    R

    ReplyDelete