i should treasure my gift.

the absolute highlight of my afternoon started in the bowels of the union square mta station…after fighting my way downstairs and onto the crowded uptown 6 platform, a short man appears before me; his eyes twinkling.

he smells slightly of alcohol, but it’s that smell when someone drinks and then covers it up with a breath mint or something.  he isn’t full board blasting, and shows no signs of inebriation.  ”can you play me some classic rock?  anything, anything.  don’t tell me what you’re playing, i’ll try to guess.”  such exuberance, how could i turn him down?

so trains are roaring in and out of the station…i wait for a lull, and then break into my old chestnut, the wind cries mary.  i figure that qualifies as classic rock, no?  there’s a signature part of the song, the part that goes doo doo doo, it’s an ascending hammer-on, and as soon as my newly made acquaintance hears it he says, “and the wind, it HOWLS…”

i said yeah, you got it bro.  the word mescaline is the next thing out of his mouth, he kept saying it, along with are you experienced.  ”that’s the album that song’s from, isn’t it?”  i said yeah, you got it bro.  he proceeds to describe with great delight (and relish) his experience listening to the album, i’m assuming while tripping on mescaline, but at this point it’s pure conjecture on my part.

“i was listening to the album, and i saw jimi hendrix with a headband.”  hmmm, i say to myself, jimi hendrix often wore a headband.  ”no bro,” he said, reading my mind, “this was before i ever saw a picture of him.”

so on we went, by now we’re on the 6 train headed uptown.  i learn my friend is from brockton ma, and he has a hard core boston accent.  nothing to sneeze at, because i learn later in our conversation that he’s been in the ny to the c since 1983.  which now that i write it, is the year a merman i should turn to be.

mass?  i proceed to tell him about my travels to amherst college at age 16, my love encounter with psychedelics and a bootleg tape of fire on the mountain, an experience that changed my life forever.
so my stop’s coming up, and i just had to know why he was in ny and what drew him here.  we got to the heart of the matter quickly.  ”in ny, i’m like an ant.  in any other city, i stick out.  no one cares here.”

back to the high watt smile.  train pulls in the station.  what’s your name, bro?  ”i’m george.”  hi george, i’m hippie lou.

he looked me straight in the eye.  ”i’d give anything to be able to play the guitar.”

as i was stepping off the train, i shouted back, you should learn, bro, it’s never too late.  it’s my standard answer, my standard encouragement, my standard reprise..  he’s 53, i thought to myself, but so what?

“it *is* too late.”

as the train pulled off, this remark exploded in my brain, my psyche, my consciousness.  shrapnel, grapeshot, god knows what else flying everywhere.

it hit me hard.  guitar is a difficult instrument.  i have been playing for 42 years, and am just now starting to really feel it, really connect with myself and my instrument to the point where something magical happens when i play for people.

i shouldn’t be so polyannish about the skill, the experience i have acquired.  it is such a privilege to pick an instrument up and make it sing.

i should treasure my gift. i am so lucky to be able to work on it and share it with others, to make their day a little brighter.

thank you george.  i’ll never forget you, or my tears as i write this.

you made me cry, mary.


march 2012.