#139157 by Slacker G
Wed Feb 02, 2011 2:58 am
Wed Feb 02, 2011 2:58 am
I just realized…
I was telling someone the other day that I didn’t believe in coincidence. Later on someone asked me how I started playing guitar. I told him that a guy on my ship had an acoustic guitar and a BIG portable AM radio. He knew I was into electronics and asked me if I could hook his guitar up to his radio. I said I could, and I made an oscillator and modulated it with a crystal mike. In other words I out a transmitter into his guitar. That was in 1959.
I thought that was so cool that I went out and bought a $13.00 Stella flat top with strings about 1” above the finger board. But first I needed to learn a song. An old colored guy that was always playing blues showed me how to play “Honky Tonk”. I would learn a bar, then go back and learn another one. I played every chance I could. I played until my calluses split and I had blood all over my fingerboard. Then I would cauterize my fingers with my Zippo lighter and go at it again until it was time to go to sleep.
The music teacher said I could never play an instrument because I was tone deaf. But I was learning and I forgot all about making the transmitter. Instead I went into town and bought a single pickup Melody Maker .I couldn’t believe how easy it was to play. I banged around with that until I found it floating in the electrical shop covered with bilge goo, a greasy foam/oil substance used to protect ballast tanks.
I told a friend that I was going to get a new guitar, and he said he wanted to learn too. So he bought a big Guild arch top for rhythm, and I bought an ES 355TD for myself. He learned way faster than I did. So pretty soon we had every R&R song on the radio down pat. It was really fun.
But the ridge runners always kept diggin at me with their “Until you can pick like Chet Atkins you ain’t a real guitar picker.” I always thought just blow it out your … Who was this Chet dude anyway?
One day I was in a park and I heard a couple of pickers at the other end. When I got up to the party, it was only one picker doing the “Chet” thing. I just stood there eating it all up, but I had to get back to the ship so I left. But I couldn’t forget it. My ship was due to leave overseas again, and everyone that had less than 90 days was going to get an early discharge. Great!!! I was tired of the Navy. But the captain hated my rebellious ADHD guts and he transferred me to another ship to finish my time. What a jerk.
When I got to my new ship I met a picker who amazed me. He played the chord melody style blues and jazz. His dad had an hour radio show where he just sat and played every night. So how cool would that be?? Anyway, I asked the kid if he knew any finger pickin. He said he didn’t, but another guy on the ship did. So I hunted him down and asked him to show me something. The guy sucked.
His thumb was uber erratic and his choice of melody was abhorrent and at the least, abnormal. But I did see the 2-3 - 1-3 2-3 thumb work. That was enough for me to try.
I locked myself into a broom closet on the main deck. I knew I had to work the thumb, so I concentrated on that. When I had that kind of down, I picked three open strings and chose an order to pick each one while concentrating on keeping my thumb work consistent. I worked at it for a day or so. Then I hit three in a row, just like I was supposed to. Then I lost it.
BUT I knew that if did it once, it would be in my brain and all I had to do was find it again. And several days later I did. For me, finger picking was much more interesting when having to play alone. . So interesting that it kept me busy until I got out of the service. My guitar was my friend when I hurt. My guitar was my friend when I was blue, or just bored. My guitar was my friend when I was happy. I got pretty good. I loved my guitar. We were soul mates.
Now the other day I was thinking of a scripture. “All things work for the good of those who love God” And I tried to regress to the crappy events in my life to see how those things formed my life, and what good came from them. I believe the Lord watched over me long before I was ready to see. And one of the things that came to mind was my being screwed out of 90 days of early freedom from the Navy. And it hit me. God sent me to that ship so I could learn the finger picking style of playing guitar that I liked so much. He knew how fun it would be for me. And then I realized…………………….
I was telling someone the other day that I didn’t believe in coincidence. Later on someone asked me how I started playing guitar. I told him that a guy on my ship had an acoustic guitar and a BIG portable AM radio. He knew I was into electronics and asked me if I could hook his guitar up to his radio. I said I could, and I made an oscillator and modulated it with a crystal mike. In other words I out a transmitter into his guitar. That was in 1959.
I thought that was so cool that I went out and bought a $13.00 Stella flat top with strings about 1” above the finger board. But first I needed to learn a song. An old colored guy that was always playing blues showed me how to play “Honky Tonk”. I would learn a bar, then go back and learn another one. I played every chance I could. I played until my calluses split and I had blood all over my fingerboard. Then I would cauterize my fingers with my Zippo lighter and go at it again until it was time to go to sleep.
The music teacher said I could never play an instrument because I was tone deaf. But I was learning and I forgot all about making the transmitter. Instead I went into town and bought a single pickup Melody Maker .I couldn’t believe how easy it was to play. I banged around with that until I found it floating in the electrical shop covered with bilge goo, a greasy foam/oil substance used to protect ballast tanks.
I told a friend that I was going to get a new guitar, and he said he wanted to learn too. So he bought a big Guild arch top for rhythm, and I bought an ES 355TD for myself. He learned way faster than I did. So pretty soon we had every R&R song on the radio down pat. It was really fun.
But the ridge runners always kept diggin at me with their “Until you can pick like Chet Atkins you ain’t a real guitar picker.” I always thought just blow it out your … Who was this Chet dude anyway?
One day I was in a park and I heard a couple of pickers at the other end. When I got up to the party, it was only one picker doing the “Chet” thing. I just stood there eating it all up, but I had to get back to the ship so I left. But I couldn’t forget it. My ship was due to leave overseas again, and everyone that had less than 90 days was going to get an early discharge. Great!!! I was tired of the Navy. But the captain hated my rebellious ADHD guts and he transferred me to another ship to finish my time. What a jerk.
When I got to my new ship I met a picker who amazed me. He played the chord melody style blues and jazz. His dad had an hour radio show where he just sat and played every night. So how cool would that be?? Anyway, I asked the kid if he knew any finger pickin. He said he didn’t, but another guy on the ship did. So I hunted him down and asked him to show me something. The guy sucked.
His thumb was uber erratic and his choice of melody was abhorrent and at the least, abnormal. But I did see the 2-3 - 1-3 2-3 thumb work. That was enough for me to try.
I locked myself into a broom closet on the main deck. I knew I had to work the thumb, so I concentrated on that. When I had that kind of down, I picked three open strings and chose an order to pick each one while concentrating on keeping my thumb work consistent. I worked at it for a day or so. Then I hit three in a row, just like I was supposed to. Then I lost it.
BUT I knew that if did it once, it would be in my brain and all I had to do was find it again. And several days later I did. For me, finger picking was much more interesting when having to play alone. . So interesting that it kept me busy until I got out of the service. My guitar was my friend when I hurt. My guitar was my friend when I was blue, or just bored. My guitar was my friend when I was happy. I got pretty good. I loved my guitar. We were soul mates.
Now the other day I was thinking of a scripture. “All things work for the good of those who love God” And I tried to regress to the crappy events in my life to see how those things formed my life, and what good came from them. I believe the Lord watched over me long before I was ready to see. And one of the things that came to mind was my being screwed out of 90 days of early freedom from the Navy. And it hit me. God sent me to that ship so I could learn the finger picking style of playing guitar that I liked so much. He knew how fun it would be for me. And then I realized…………………….
