There are guitars worth thousands of dollars that don’t mean half as much as one old broken guitar hanging in a garage.
Back around 1980 or 1981, we were living out in the country on five acres Daddy called “End of the Trail.” The little church next door was called Lakeside House of Prayer, and the pastor was Reverend Carl Day. Reverend Day was kind enough to let me go over to the church during the week and play the piano whenever I wanted. Sitting in that little church alone, learning chords and melodies by ear, became part of my musical education long before I ever knew what my life would become.
The church also had an old Japanese-made Lotus acoustic guitar. It wasn’t fancy. Even back then it was probably considered a cheap guitar, but that old Lotus had something special in its sound. It had a deep, warm bass tone that seemed alive in your hands.
One evening Daddy went with me to the church to hear me play piano. My dad never really went to church much, but that night he sat there listening while I played. Afterward we showed him that old Lotus guitar. The moment he strummed it, he fell in love with the sound.
Daddy asked Reverend Day if he would sell the guitar. Reverend Day said no at first, but eventually Daddy talked him into it. If I remember right, he paid about fifty dollars for it. To us, that guitar might as well have been a vintage Martin. It was the best-playing guitar either of us had ever owned at that point in our lives.
Daddy loved that guitar.
After my father passed away in March of 1987, the Lotus became even more special to me. By then I was in the Air Force stationed in Alamogordo, New Mexico. A few years later, sometime around 1991 or 1992, my young son was living with me after my divorce. He was probably around six years old then. We would drive back and forth from New Mexico to Athens, Texas, to visit family, and I always carried that old Lotus guitar with me.
I had an old Chrysler New Yorker we jokingly called “the talking car.” Somewhere on one of those long Texas trips, my son got sleepy. I told him to lean the seat back and take a nap. When the seat reclined, it caught the guitar neck and snapped the headstock completely off.
At one point I tried gluing the headstock back on myself, but as soon as I restrung it and brought the strings up to tension, it broke loose again. After that, the guitar spent years sitting in garages and corners collecting dust. Most people probably would have thrown it away, but I never could. It wasn’t just a guitar anymore. Daddy had played it. Part of him still lived inside that old wood.
Every now and then over the years I would think about finding someone who could repair it properly, but life always seemed to get in the way.
A couple of months ago I came across a Facebook post from a luthier in Arlington, Texas, who repaired guitars out of his home workshop. I contacted him about fixing both my Taylor 314ce and the old Lotus. When I carried the Lotus into his shop, I could tell by the look on his face what he was thinking. To him it probably looked like a worn-out old cheap Japanese guitar that wasn’t worth saving.
Then I told him the story. I explained that my dad had loved this guitar. I told him where it came from and why it mattered. His whole attitude changed after that.
Even then he warned me not to expect much. He said, “After I repair it, you’ll probably only be able to play a few chords on the first three frets.” I told him I didn’t care. I just wanted to hear it sing again.
Today I went to pick it up. The moment I strummed that old Lotus, I was instantly transported back in time. There it was — that same deep, sweet, bass-heavy sound I remembered from that little church all those years ago. Somehow, after decades of damage, dust, heartbreak, garages, and failed repairs, that old guitar still had its voice. And to everyone’s surprise, including the luthier’s, it still played beautifully all the way down the neck.
He looked at me afterward and admitted he was shocked by how good the guitar sounded. In fact, he laughed and said if he ever ran across another old Lotus guitar, he was going to buy it. Funny how life works sometimes. An old broken guitar most people would overlook turned out to hold some of the sweetest music I ever remembered hearing. I think it’s only fitting that somewhere on my next album, that old Lotus guitar finally gets to sing again.