When I was a church going child, I found myself embarrassed at time to sit next to my mother as her Bible was beat up and used and not shiny and new like the well-to-doers in the pews next to us.
Her Bible’s yellowed pages were torn and falling out; scotch tape kept the spine together and almost ever page had a rainbow of highlighters marking important scriptures and important passages. There was even index tabs for quick reference to a Book or two.
My mother noticed how I winced at times when she pulled out her beat up book and turned along with the pastor to the scriptures at hand. But one day she pointed out the difference between her book and those of the fashionable pious. She said those people didn’t read their Bibles as they were likely pulled from the shelf for Sunday use only. She said our Bible looked this way because we read and used it daily. She said this is how a Bible should look.
Are we able to view guitars in the same light? Might that naturally relic’ed bass be the one? Played night after night in a smoky club or session after session in a studio? Scratches, dings, nicks, scratches and all? Could it have that magical mojo owner p(r)layed to find?
Shall we shun the shiny closet classic that sat under the bed for years days after it came home and the disappointed owner forgot about all those hopes and dreams?
Her Bible’s yellowed pages were torn and falling out; scotch tape kept the spine together and almost ever page had a rainbow of highlighters marking important scriptures and important passages. There was even index tabs for quick reference to a Book or two.
My mother noticed how I winced at times when she pulled out her beat up book and turned along with the pastor to the scriptures at hand. But one day she pointed out the difference between her book and those of the fashionable pious. She said those people didn’t read their Bibles as they were likely pulled from the shelf for Sunday use only. She said our Bible looked this way because we read and used it daily. She said this is how a Bible should look.
Are we able to view guitars in the same light? Might that naturally relic’ed bass be the one? Played night after night in a smoky club or session after session in a studio? Scratches, dings, nicks, scratches and all? Could it have that magical mojo owner p(r)layed to find?
Shall we shun the shiny closet classic that sat under the bed for years days after it came home and the disappointed owner forgot about all those hopes and dreams?
