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I loved that guitar

We lived in a house trailer in 1975. It wasn't air-conditioned. We'd been married a year and we both Worked at jobs that paid just over minimum wage which was $2.10 an hour.

I wasn't a whiz with finances back then. Even though we barely earned enough to eat and keep the lights on, I bought a Gibson Les Paul. It cost more than the car we drove.

The payments were low. It took three years but I finally paid it off.

It was a beautiful guitar. The design of the neck and the fretboard made playing the guitar feel almost like cheating.

A few years later, I got a job with the phone company and our prospects became brighter. We still weren't "in the money." but things were looking up.

As often happens when you live close to the edge, our car started guzzling oil. The engine on the old Plymouth Valiant was shot. We still couldn't afford a new car, so I did something that I still regret. I sold the Les Paul to a guy that worked with me at MaBell.

Scanning through some old photographs today, I came across this picture that Jilda took of me playing the Les Paul. I felt a twinge of sadness.

Did I mention that I loved that guitar?




This post first appeared on Life 101, please read the originial post: here

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