Something really amazing happened this summer...

Shortly after we got home from the summer tour, the family and I went walking around Old Towne Orange. If you've spent any amount of time with me, you know this is very typical. I spend a lot of time in Old Towne Orange.

This particular day was not like the others. We walked into one of our most frequented antique stores and began to browse.

We've always found some cool stuff in here. In fact, Michael bought the biggest belt buckle of his collection here (those of you who've seen it know what I'm talking about).

Something caught our eye. It was a classical style guitar with nylon strings, just minding its own business! I picked it up and began to play it. The first thing I noticed was that it was tuned a whole step lower than the average guitar.  The tone was reminiscent of Heaven's harps (those of you who've been to Heaven know what I'm talking about).

The consensus around our family was that we liked the guitar a whole lot. Dad asked me if I wanted to buy it. This is a very dangerous question to ask a guitar player. I remember Ricky Skaggs asking me once if I knew how many guitars a guitar player needs. His answer was "just one more". But, I decided to be as mature as I possibly could endure and I told Dad that I didn't want to buy a guitar on impulse. Then we all walked away.

For some reason, that tortured me all day. I had a really nice guitar in my arms, and we all loved it, and I just set it down and walked away. The torture was basically unbearable (those of you who've been to Phoenix in July know what I'm talking about). Had I no heart?! Had I no soul?! Had I enough guitars?!  Yes, Yes, and No.

That evening, my siblings and I attended an alumni event at Chapman University. We had a good time hanging out with fellow alumni, catching up with people we hadn't seen in a while, eating chicken and stuff. I had made a post on Google+ earlier that day that read:

Little did I know, that my Mom (who barely ever uses Google+) had read it, and then wrote this comment on it:

Boy did they surprise me. Dad and Mom snuck back into It's About Time Antiques and secretly bought the guitar while I was away. When I got home that afternoon, I sat down with my new guitar and played and played and played. I wanted to think of a way to adequately thank my Mom and Dad, but nothing I thought of seemed to be enough, and besides I think they already have a $20 Bass Pro gift card somewhere. 

So, I decided the first performance on this guitar would be a song I dedicate to them. Mom and Dad, this song is for you:  

Thanks again!!

Goodbye Ol Pal...

When you've known someone for ten years, they become one of the family. It becomes hard to imagine life without them. Last night, I lost a member of the family.

The full size upright bass I had just finished performing with, fell to the ground unexpectedly, and broke into several pieces.

About ten years ago, my siblings and I had just discovered bluegrass and had just received our brand new banjo, mandolin, and guitar for Christmas. Now we needed a bass. Having owned several violins, we knew of only one shop that sold acoustic upright basses. The owner of the shop, known to my siblings and I as "Mr. Joseph", pulled one out of the rows of classical instruments, played it a little, gave it a spin, and returned it to the case. We started renting it from his store, but shortly after, we bought it. Oh how we loved that bass! It recorded two bluegrass albums with the Wimberley Bluegrass Band (not to mention a cassette we made for our Grammy shortly after we got it and before we ever performed bluegrass publicly), it has performed on many stages with us, including Greg Laurie's church, and appeared in some of my vlogs.

Just before it's last show, I remain blissfully ignorant of it's impending fate.

Little did I know that last night would be our last night together. We were performing with legendary guitarist Dennis Agajanian, and rocket scientist/guitar picker extraordinaire Dr. Takahiro Morishita. As I pulled that instrument out of its case for the last time, Dr. Tak noted how beautiful of an instrument it was. As our fantastic sound guys conducted a sound check, I enjoyed how the deep, throbbing sound filled the entire room. Little did I know that it's beautiful wooden face would no longer be whole and that it's powerful, rich voice would soon be silenced.

Here's a clip from sound check:

It's last show was a great one. Excellent sound mix, excellent set lists, and a great audience, all gathered for a great cause. After the final notes of our last set finished ringing, I put the bass in its case, and took it with me down the hall to the CD tables. Propped up in a corner out of harm's way, I turned my back and began talking with all the folks who came. After a little while, I heard a sickening cranch from behind me. A "cranch" is a crash and a crunch simultaneously. The bass had fallen out of it's corner and lay face down on the ground. As I tried to pick it up, something was rattling big time. Then I noticed the lack of support the neck offered. It was completely detached. I opened the case up, and the carnage was gruesome. The entire neck and fingerboard had snapped off, the bridge was at the bottom of the case, and the face of the instrument had two, long, parallel fractures running down toward the sound holes. People started crowding around, looking on in horror.

"You must be so devastated!" one lady said as she put her arm around me to comfort me.

"Oh no!" said another man standing next to her, "I'm sure an instrument like that isn't cheap, I hope that's repairable!"

"I'm afraid it's totaled," I told them as my heart shattered like the giant instrument laying on the ground.

There used to be a neck attached here.

This is actually a bass, not a nesting doll.

Two parallel cracks on the face. Not a desirable quality. 

During the drive home, we started talking about luthiers who might be able to fix it if they are up for a challenge. We also contemplated the possibility of getting a new one. As it stands now, the bass is in it's usual corner of our living room, but not standing as tall as it once did. It's future is unknown. So many questions to be answered: Will it be the center of our next bonfire party? Will the king's horses and men put it together again? Will Gilligan ever get off the island? I guess we'll just have to wait and see.
Until then, enjoy this video of it's last concert, and this video of it's final curtain call.