Because someone else's first love deserves a second chance. --- I love the stories behind unusual secondhand purchases. This is a favorite.
Steve's instruments didn't make the cut when we hauled life to Toronto in a minivan. Strollers are more practical than guitars and a drum kit. Go figure.
But after a few months, seeing Steve miss out on his artistic expression hurt, especially considering he is in solitary confinement writing about history five days a week.
And it didn't really feel like home without the familiar soundtrack of Steve's laid back strumming. We missed our music man.
He and I promised we wouldn't buy each other Christmas presents but sometimes I'm naughty and break promises.
Last December, I scoured the internet in search of a secondhand guitar.
After a few failed attempts, I connected with a dedicated musician who needed to downsize his extensive library.
He was selling what he called his first "real" guitar, the one that he saved up for and purchased with care.
I asked him why on earth he wanted to part with it if it was so special. "I've been lucky to enjoy many special guitars. I'm running out of space. This one is ready for a new home." Now the guitar gets another chance to shine.
Now Watts HQ is alive with the sound of music.
Now we have our music man back.
And it's not just any secondhand instrument. Steve's treasure is an Art & Lutherie guitar, made in Quebec and handcrafted from Canadian wood. It's more than I hoped for.
The trouble is we are facing another move soon. To where? We aren't sure yet but it could be a big ordeal. We may or may not be able to bring the guitar with us.
The thought of leaving it behind makes me cringe. My sweet sister-in-law and I pooled resources and surprised Steve on Christmas morning. It was a holiday highlight.
The good news is I bought it for a fraction of what it's worth. We can easily sell it, recover the cost, recycle the money, and buy another guitar.
This is yet another reason to choose secondhand shopping. You can own treasures but the treasures don't own you. That's an important distinction. It's liberating.