OH BABY BABY!

I sit myself down in one of the back rows after our final set, in a seat beside a rather burly gentleman, his bodily form occupying a bit of my seat. No worries; I would just hold my breathe for the remainder of the service! Besides, I think there is a lack of physical contact in this society where everyone has their own established "no-fly" zones.

It is hard to see the communicator clearly on the stage from my position. So, I find myself looking up at one of the 4 screens where the live feed is projected. At one point, I am stopped in my tracks. The communicator was speaking in his usual, animated fashion. But something on the lower left hand corner of the screen caught my eye. It was my guitar! The way that they had framed the speaker was such that my guitar was sitting there, on its stand, in plain view the entire time.

At that moment, I must have felt what many proud parents feel when their child is given some honour. Perhaps they receive an award for a piano competition, or has scored the winning goal. THE PARENTS BEAM. And there I was, beaming at the fact that my guitar was part of this backdrop, not really due to anything else aside from its random placement. I had to fight the temptation to turn to the guy beside me and exclaim "That's my guitar there!"

That sent me drowning in a flood of nostalgia. Probably the same routine a beaming, proud parent experiences at these type of moments, unbeknownst to their child. I started reflecting on the times of my life that was shared with this, more than just a musical instrument. My "baby"!

1993 - baby is born; actually, it was picked up at a guitar store in Brampton, after having returned an Ovation knock-off that was my original purchase; frustrated, I said to the salesman "I just want a guitar that will last me forever!" He brings me into the special guitar room which is behind glass and is properly humidified. He says "Do you know that song More Than Words ?" C'mon, what hormone-excited high school senior doesn't know the top love song of that time? "Well, they play that song on this guitar, a Washburn EA-20". He doesn't have to say anything else and baby is brought home.

1993 - Still amazed that they chose my song to be that year's theme song, I get to lead it in front of 800 people on my baby!

1993-1996 - Unable/unwilling to lug my piano to university, my much-more-portable baby comes along for some higher education. Many, many, many hours which should have been spent prepping for med school were spent with my baby instead. Hence, I am not a doctor today, but an okay guitarist.

1994 - Never trust your baby to unscreened "baby-sitters"! I left baby in the care of a fellow classmate over reading week, thinking it would be safer in an all girls dorm than in my ghetto house north of Princess. I come back to find a huge crack in the case because, while the guitar was kept underneath the bed, that person decided to do a rendition of "No more monkeys jumping on the bed". Luckily, the case did its job and baby was not hurt.

1994 - 2004 - A multitude of John 424 gigs, ranging from various churches to the Metro Convention Centre to various outdoor venues: Mel Lastman Square, Earl Bales Park and a float during a (now questionable) parade.

2001 - In my lap while on my knees in front of Lake Ontario in Kingston, while persuading someone to say yes.

I think that I can proudly say that I've taken care of my baby for all these years. Yes, it's not the gleaming white that it originally was, leaning more towards cream. Yes, she's been good to me and nice to my fingers. At first, I remember (shamefully) feeling uncomfortable when people's usual first comment was: "It's a white guitar?" But, now I'm proud of the fact that she's different, like me. She's been the source of inspiration and expression, when many times I feel misunderstood. And, although I continually dream about getting a Taylor, she will always be my baby!