Small act of kindness.

I didn't work from 1990 - 1994. I had a respiratory problem I needn't go into here.

I started a contract technical writing job in 1994. I had charged my credit cards to the limit and gone through all my savings, even sold my guitar for some much-needed rent money.

Another writer on the team brought in a guitar case one day. He took weekly lessons from a noted guitar teacher. I'd never heard of the guitar teacher, but Harry said he wrote a column for Acoustic Guitar magazine. I mentioned I played but didn't have a guitar. Though I'd only been working there a few days, he asked me if I wanted to borrow one of his. I told him thanks but he probably needed it. He said he had several (don't remember the number), and his wife would probably appreciate one less guitar around the house.

So he loaned me a guitar. It was a simple and generous act.

One day he mentioned that in the guitar shop where he took lessons they had a 12 string guitar just like the Byrds guitar player used back in the 60's. He said it was a blond Rickenbacker. I suppose that means it was a very light-colored wood. But he said he didn't think his wife would appreciate him getting another guitar. But he really longed for that guitar (a symbol of lost youth?) and talked about it often.

One day he returned from his lesson a bit sad. He told me the night before, someone had broken into the guitar shop and stole several guitars, including the 12 string.

I kind of shook my head and told him he should have bought it while he had the chance. I don't think that advice had any practical value for him.

A day or two later, he told me that his wife, hearing the news of the guitar shop break in, had said to him, "Gee, Harry, I knew you wanted it, but I didn't know you wanted it that bad."

I learned something about kindness, but can't quite put it into words.  ¶ 7:31 AM (0) comments