Traditions

I worry that because I haven't written for a long, long time that the pressure to tell you something awesome has increased exponentially.  Well, let's see how it goes, shall we? 

I've been thinking a lot about traditions lately, as the holiday season has arrived, Thanksgiving has come and gone, and Christmas is looming. Most of the time I dislike this time of year, because it requires a lot of running about, and fitting a lot of family visits into an already stressful schedule, but there are those certain obligatory events that have been built into each year that keep me excitedly looking forward. 

One of those events is Thanksgiving dinner at my dad's house. Every year, my dad deep fries a turkey. Now, I know that sounds a little unhealthy and maybe insane, but he loves to do it, and everyone loves to eat it. It really is quite good, if you can just overlook the method. Thanksgiving morning, I hear the rumble of the Thunderbird, and look out the window in time to see my dad pulling it cautiously from its cozy spot in the garage, its shiny red coat still pristine from when it was last driven around the block. Which was probably in June when he removes it for his annual music festival. Anyway, the reason he took it out on Thanksgiving, as he does every year, is because the turkey fryer is located in the room to the rear of the garage. Splattered with grease stains from years of deep frying, we all worry a little bit that the place won't get blown sky high. My dad always says, "Well, I figure it would take more time to get the thing started than I would have to get it out of the garage in time if the turkey fryer blows up." 

Typically there's another fellow or two who helps out with the turkey. This year, it was just my immediate family for dinner, which is incredibly rare, so Nick and I were drafted to help with the turkey frying. Well, Nick was drafted, I mostly just stood there throwing sticks for Harper and practicing the 'stop, drop, and roll' in my head. We seasoned the turkey with a significant amount of salt and rigged it up using a scary looking metal apparatus that would probably be equally suited for an S&M ritual, then slowly lowered Mr. Turkey into the scalding oil. You have to monitor the temperature of the oil while the turkey is frying away, so we searched for something with which to entertain ourselves that could take place only several feet from the garage. We settled for some target practice with an old pump action rifle. Nick wants you to know that it is a Winchester 1906 Pump Action 22. (All I cared about is that it didn't knock me down or make significant noise when I shot it.) The neat thing about Rugby is that when you order pizza at the sketchy gas station down the road, it comes in a camouflaged box complete with targets printed on the back. We passed the hour or so of cooking time by practicing our aim, while doing our part to recycle our pizza boxes. My aim is pretty bad by the way. Oh well. 

Another amazing holiday tradition in my family is watching three, now four, Christmas themed movies. (Until this year, my dad had never seen A Christmas Story! He loved it, by the way) My dad's favorites are Home Alone and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, respectively, and watching him watch those movies is probably my favorite thing. I am not sure from where his love of slapstick comedy stems, but suffice it to say he can't get enough of the likes of Kevin McCallister or Clark W. Griswold. I recall him taking me to see Home Alone 2 in theaters and my dad laughed so hard he could barely breathe when Harry gets a facefull of tools as he attempts to enter Kevin's booby trapped house. This year, as most, my cousins Lauren and Leah stopped by to watch with us. It just isn't Christmastime without Kevin, Harry, and Marv.

Traditions like these remind me how fortunate I am to have such a great family, but I am looking forward to building new traditions with the family I have made with Harper and Nick. Of course, I miss my Granny and her Christmas tree that spent each Christmas in the old metal bathtub until it was replanted in the front yard in January, and the giant bulbous colored lights that adorned it, and how much better her dinners tasted than anyone else's, but hopefully I can take those memories and create similar ones for my new family. I am excited for my mom to come visit our house for fancy Christmas dinner, hopefully one Granny would approve of, and I am looking forward to spending time with Nick's family as well and incorporating their traditions into ours too.

As far as guitar building goes, I'm working on carrying on that family tradition as well, but with a few twists of my own. I have been working on ukuleles as of late, but about to start two new guitars. I cut all the inlay for one of them today. Spencer Strickland and I commiserated on our long last names. Every time inlay day comes around I wish Herb Key was my dad...

Anyway, last week I finished up a sweet tenor ukulele (made of Walnut and Spruce from White Top Mountain) with a tooth inlaid in gold that had actually been flattened from gold fillings. The dentist who removed the teeth and sent the flattened gold to the shop ordered a ukulele that matched the guitar I built for him last year. There aren't any gold teeth in the guitar, but since cutting out my whole name in mini to fit on a ukulele headstock would illicit significant use of profanity, I opted to try something a little moe unique...and better for my conscience. It turned out pretty well if I do say so myself. What do you think? 

Close up of the tooth

Doc playing the guitar I modeled uke #9 on.

Walnut back, with herring bone binding.

Visiting with Zac Brown Band

I am feeling a little sick today, but it is kind of ok because I am pretty sure I contracted this cold via Zac Brown, of the Zac Brown Band. Last week my dad was invited to play on stage with Zac because our good friend Lucas plays guitar on tour with him and took my dad's (and Doc's oak!) guitar to show him. So last Thursday Jimmy Edmonds, my dad, Lucas,  a great young singer from Galax, Lindsay Nale, and I all piled in the car and headed to Charlotte, NC to watch Zac's show and visit with him and the band a little.

Wayne and Lucas picking a little on the bus.

We arrived about 3 hours prior to the show and were escorted behind the stage and onto Zac's tour bus. I don't know how he can tell his from any of the other fifteen buses lined up back there. Maybe there is a sticker or something. Anyway, Zac greeted each of us, but declined to shake anyone's hand as he was sick and didn't want to spread his illness. (Hmph... :-/) After a little bit of small talk, it was on to the inevitable discussion of guitars. Zac played a new Edmonds guitar that Jimmy had just finished for him, and he sampled my dad's number 52 as well. One thing I thought really endearing is that Zac and my dad were quite similar. Kind of laid back, quiet fellas who seem interested in other's talents and uniqueness. Both are interested in knives and guns and guitars. Is that a common grouping of obsessions, I wonder? When you visit my dad, he always wants you to have a good time, and if he notices that you might appreciate something he has to offer, he will send you home with it to commemorate your time in Rugby. I love that Zac shared a similar hospitality. We all got leather beer coozies, and Zac presented my dad with a gigantic knife that his company, Southern Grind, manufactures out of old saw blades. Jimmy also got a knife, quite a bit smaller, but exponentially more dangerous as it flicks open its blade as you slide it from your pocket. "Now be careful with that." Zac warned. Not five minutes after we left the bus Lindsay's dad asks Jimmy to see his new knife, and is immediately bleeding.

My dad shows off his new knife courtesy of Zac Brown.

Since Zac was so hospitable, my dad wanted to reciprocate the generosity and asked Lucas if Zac would appreciate a genuine tortoiseshell guitar pick that he had made and just happened to have in his pocket along with his finger picks, change, and always present pocket knife. Lucas said he probably would, so my dad asks, "Mr. Zac? Would you like a genuine tortoise shell flatpick? You could probably do more with it than I could. But don't throw that one out on stage. It is kind of rare." Zac promised he wouldn't and thanked him for the gift.

With a few minutes till ZBB was to go on stage, we pushed our way to our seats, and got ready for the show. Since it was not a full production show Lucas stayed out front with us most of the time, and luckily knew when it was time for my dad and Jimmy to head back stage for their 15000-strong audience debut.

While Zac shot t-shirts into the crowd (and several into the rafters of the amphitheater) I saw my dad waiting behind him on the stage shrouded in a dark blue light. We all screamed with excitement, listening to the 'acoustic set' that had most of the band members sitting or standing in a casual manner on the front of the stage. My dad and Jimmy played Fox on the Run, my dad taking the first break and Jimmy following on his fiddle. My dad said afterwards that he couldn't hear a thing so he had no idea whether he was in time or playing the right thing or what. I, perhaps biased, thought they sounded great, however I couldn't really hear much above the screaming either so it probably wouldn't have mattered if the timing was off, or someone missed a note or anything. It was very interesting to watch my dad and then Lucas make their way back to our seats, as people parted like the Red Sea to let them through this time. I guess they couldn't believe that these ordinary looking folks who, minutes earlier, had been on stage with Zac Brown Band were sitting in, or near, their row out front.

On stage with ZBB!

After enjoying the rest of the high energy, brightly lit show, we headed back to Zac's bus to thank him for a great evening. As he approached having just left the stage, he said to my dad, "Oh man I almost lost this!" Holding the tortoiseshell pick. "I forgot it was in my pocket and when I was throwing picks out on stage it fell out and a girl grabbed it and I had to get it back from her, telling her she couldn't have that one!" "I told you not to throw that one out on stage!" my dad proclaimed in jest. Luckily Zac traded with the eager fan and hopefully will use his new handmade in Rugby pick!

After a beer or two on the bus, and a presentation of t-shirts (my dad's was donned immediately), we headed out of the arena's parking lot. And just to demonstrate the company I was keeping, and the delirious state I was in, due to excitement and exhaustion, I was alarmingly happy to stop at Taco Bell for a midnight snack for the drive back to Rugby.

Wayne: Hang on! I have to get properly attired for the picture!

So I am now trying to get over a cold, while working on a tenor ukulele and gearing up to go to another sweet concert this weekend! I am not cool enough to get back stage this time and hang out with Jake Shimabukuro though. Hopefully I will be able to throw a few elbows and get to meet him, as he is an amazing ukulele player (seriously, look up the youtube video of him playing Bohemian Rhapsody on his uke). It would be amazing to get some advice from him as it would be priceless for my ukulele building.

Oh! I do have one more thing that is probably the coolest thing that has ever happened to me, and it is also thanks to my best-good pal Lucas. A few weeks ago he took the guitar I made for Doc with him on Zac's tour when they stopped in Nashville. John Mayer just happened to join them to play a set or two, and he ended up playing my guitar a little bit. (I will never change the strings. Well that's a lie because my dad is playing that guitar tomorrow for a tribute to Doc Watson, and requested that the strings be changed for that, so I will revise that statement and say that I will forever keep those strings.) If you know me at all, you know that I have this kind of weird, unwavering love of his music so to have him touch this guitar means a significant amount to me. And it was enhanced exponentially by a note from John saying he liked it. So that was kind of amazing.

John Mayer sais he liked my guitar!!!!!!

New Chapter

A package arrived at my house last night. I don't even think anyone knocked or rang the doorbell.  Harper never barked and neither Nick nor I heard anything so it was really a surprise when I saw a medium-sized box propped against the side of my house when I went to get something from my car. I scuttled back inside clutching my present with excited fingers and grinning from ear to ear. I was so excited about this package that Nick thought for sure it contained shoes, or perhaps a secret release John Mayer album. But no. Nick stood and watched as I slit the tape holding the contents of the Amazon box. Nestled between layers of bubble wrap was a Makita 3037FC Fixed Base router with LED light! Yeeeee! (Nick was looking at me like he was thinking, "What kind of nutpants did I marry...?" Though, he said he thought it was neat that I get excited about things like power tools as well as shoes and secret release John Mayer albums.)

It is the same router my dad has in his shop to route the spaces in pegheads and fingerboards into which sawed bits of pearl fit. And now I have one too!! The reason for this purchase is that I am going to try my hand at working from home for a couple of weeks. Starting tomorrow, I will periodically work in my friend's new workshop here in Asheville.

My friend Nate has recently made a similar decision as mine to quit his regularly-scheduled-paycheck job and instead pursue his passion for art. He built a pottery studio and wood shop on his family's property in Fairview and graciously invited me to share the space with him, so neither of us will get too lonely working on our prospective projects. I am excited to share a space with someone who is so talented in mediums in which I so very much am not. He does beautiful watercolors and makes ridiculously awesome pottery sculptures (such as bird houses and light fixtures). Hopefully I can teach him a little about ukulele building in return for a potting lesson or two!

While I am ecstatic to have the opportunity to purchase my own tools and work my way out of messes on my own, I am a little nervous to work in a new space without the safety net of my dad's expert eyes overseeing my work. However,  I think this is an important step to truly working on my own, and making my own instruments. Someday I won't be afforded the choice and will be forced to do every step without the crutch of my dad's keen observations. I suppose I might as well start removing the training wheels now.

My dad, as well as his helper Don. seem eager to help me with this transition. My dad ran around looking for things to send with me, helping me make patterns and thinking of small tools I might need. I had already ordered my router, and my dad tried to recall where he had put his extra bits. Don stopped by late one night and after I told him about ordering the router, he turned, rummaged in the corner for a minute and produced two bits. "Here, take these then. No wait, this one is better. Take it too." I added them to my growing pile of things. "Do you have a finishing sander?" I didn't think so, and he dug around in another drawer and handed me a brand new sander I never knew existed in there. "Are you sure my dad won't need that?" I asked. "Nah, he doesn't need it. He has 3 more just like it. You answered the phone today right? Then you earned it anyway." I added the sander to the pile too.

"Well, I will miss you." My dad said yesterday as I was preparing to leave the shop, a box overflowing with mahogany necks, ukulele sides, binding, and fret materials unwieldily clutched in my arms. Coming from a fella who doesn't often share such sentiments, I knew he meant it. I'll miss you too, Daddy.

I look forward to sharing my new adventures (or minor disasters) with you all! Thanks so much for reading and supporting me in this endeavor. It means more to me than you'll ever know!

Jiro Dreams of Sushi

The other night I watched a documentary about sushi. If you don't know this about me already, I will share with you that I love watching documentaries. Particularly ones about really neat folks who have a unique skill or eccentric lifestyle; I am less interested in the films that attempt to scare me into understanding their position or are so obviously biased toward a specific issue that I know I am not getting the whole story. Not my favorite. Anyway, this most recent documentary was about a little Japanese man who loves sushi so much he dreams about it, and goes to work every day in his sushi restaurant in pursuit of perfecting his sushi making skills.

What does this have to do with guitars? Well, I am getting there. Jiro, the little Japanese man, is 85 years old and still shows up at his restaurant every day. The only time he misses work is to attend a funeral. His 10 seat restaurant is booked months and months in advance but he doesn't advertise or have a flashy store front. Making sushi is not work for him. ...Do  you see where I am going with this yet?

Any time I ask my dad if he would like to share some sushi that I have made for dinner he recoils and requests that I make him something, anything, else. I find that ironic as my dad is exactly the same as Jiro. Aside from their passion for their work, their mannerisms and attitude toward life are even quite similar. It was kind of exciting to see that there are others who have this strong, uncommon passion for their work and us regular people notice it and appreciate it no matter the specific vocation.

According to the documentary there is a term for this type of special person. Jiro is described as being a shokunin, which in the film is defined as a craftsman or artisan, but beyond having technical skills, the shokunin exudes a certain attitude and social consciousness toward their 'work' which would better be described as their one great passion in life. I don't think I have as strong a passion for building guitars as my dad does, but I do enjoy it very much, and I have a strong desire to continue what my dad has built here in his tiny four-seat shop tucked away in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Jiro's son also works with him and has been learning from his father for many years. The difference between him and me though is that he didn't have a choice in the matter. It is expected for the eldest son to take over his father's trade whereas I chose to do this, after many years of educating myself to pursue other professions. Jiro's son has become and incredible sushi maker himself, having worked with his dad for 30 years, since his dad never retired.

Most the documentary sends the message that Jiro's apprentices are much less skilled than the master and are on the other side of a dividing line of expertise that likely can't be achieved by someone other than a true shokunin. I have found this belief to be the case for me sometimes as well, people not sure that I can actually replicate my dad's talents because no one can. But perhaps I can. Jiro's restaurant has earned a three Michelin star rating, which in restaurant speak, is as high an honor as you can earn. Kind of equivalent to Eric Clapton ordering a Henderson guitar. Anyway, the inspiring thing I took from this film is that the day Jiro's restaurant was judged for its Michelin stars, his son was the one who prepared the sushi. We may not be shokunin yet, but I think we still have potential to exceed mediocrity in our respective fields.

It is inspiring to me that Jiro has secured his place in the world by teaching others while improving himself everyday. He leaves us with this advice: "Always look ahead and above yourself and always elevate your craft."

Jiro and his sushi. (Photo credit eater.com)

Wednesday Night

This has been a busy week of traveling, neck shaping, and sanding, so in lieu of a clever, entertaining story from me, please enjoy this slightly jiggly video I took last night of Reggie Harris and Lucas White playing Doc's Oak 000 and my dad's #52, respectively. They are kind of ridiculously talented.