music: Rodrigo y Gabriela- Rodrigo y Gabriela
Dearest Sigma DR1-ST,
We’ve been together a long time. I remember when I first took you home, fresh from Wade’s and realized that you and I were in for a long-term relationship. Granted, my buddy Mike set us up, picked you out of the crowd and said something like “yeah, this one will do you for a couple years,” but once we had some time together to get better acquainted I knew you and I would go places, and for more than a couple of years. It was the end of high school. I was young and didn’t really have a clue as to what was going on; my future was fuzzy at best. And you were there through all the craziness, solid as spruce and rosewood laminate. You were there during those last days of high school when my world was turning upside down. You were right there with me as I played and sang to my first real crowds at summer camp. You got me through some really hard nights in the dorms my first year of college. Your good looks helped me earn spare change for lunch on the streets of Montreal the summer after, and then accompanied me to several concerts where you and I made quick friends with other people. I took you up to the cold North Woods of Wisconsin where we celebrated the new year on more than one occasion. You served as a translator when I had no more words, you helped me find a common language with complete strangers. You’ve eased some of my more awkward moments. You made the trip up to Boston with me after college ended. You endured a summer in the trunk of my car as I drove around the country, but I made sure that we had some quality time every night. You got a lot out of your time in Boston with me; we tromped around that crazy city and did some weekend trips as well, having good times all the while. I remember that on one trip up to Maine we were sitting by the fire and you were lying in my arms when I had one of my more defining musical experiences to date, and you and I formed what would be come the greatest acoustic duo in history. You even sat in the back seat of my car when I drove out to California, squished between boxes and books and fancier electrical equipment. We’ve been places, you and I, that’s for sure.
I know it hasn’t always been easy for us, that sometimes you felt as though I may have been abusing you. I know there was that one time in that dingy apartment where I dropped you on the floor and gave you a solid crack in your finish (but I did get you all fixed up, didn’t I?). There was that other time where I may have forced one of your pegs out a little too harshly and worn into some wood. There may be a few belt scratches, dings in your headstock, gouges in your finish. I know that one night, when I was messing around with one of those cheap pickups that are meant to pop in and out I accidentally took off a chunk of wood and finish right from the edge of your sound hole. I’ve tried to take good care of you, I really have, and there have been many times where I tried to go the extra mile and have your frets leveled, replace you new tuning pegs, or install a strap knob as to take the tension off your neck. I’ve tried to be good about keeping your fretboard clean and changing your strings on a regular basis. I know that I often kept you under the bed or in the closet. and that sometimes when i kept you out the temperature and humidity made your body warp a little. I’ve treated you rough, I’ve thrown you on the bed on more than one occasion, I’ve picked you up improperly on many more occasions. Some days we just can’t find harmony and I get frustrated with you, but you know that the truth is you’ve made me as happy as any inanimate object can.
So, dear guitar, don’t take this the wrong way: I’ve met someone else. I’m hoping you can be friends, because — and I mean this when I say it — I’m never letting you go. I know you got less face time with me when the Gibson came into my life, but those quieter, tender moments were always reserved for you. But now, as of yesterday, really, There’s a new acoustic. You’re from the same family, it turns out: the Sigma DR-28 that swooped into my life took me by surprise. You can’t plan for these sorts of things. But the DR-28 is, by all measures, a beautiful guitar. It’s older than you, made in 1982. It’s well-crafted, has amazing hardwear and solid construction. It’s a rosewood and spruce model, just like you. I can plug it in. And if I could tell you a secret, DR1-ST, I finally decided that the DR-28 was the right one for me because it reminded me so much of you. I know that’s hard to hear, but it’s the truth.
I’ll tell you this right now: If push comes to shove, I’ll get rid of the other one. You may be road weary, dinged up, full of nicks and chips, but you will always have a place in my life. In those dark, lonely hours you are my go-to guitar. You’re the guitar on whom I’ve written all my songs, please remember that. Instead of being jealous, I hope that you and the DR-28 can be friends. We will have our time still, old guitar. Nothing (except the green osprey silhouette - you know the one, hanging out right across the room?) has been with me longer. We’ve been through so much that I could never let you go.
Here’s to more good times down the road. Things won’t be the same, how could they be? Things won’t be better or worse for you and I, just…different. I hope you can understand this, Sigma DR1-ST. You are beautiful. You have made me laugh and cry, and I’m sure will in the future. Thank you for your time, patience, caring, and understanding.
Love,
David
