My father bought his acoustic-electric Takamine guitar not long after I was born, and over the years he taught me tons of classic songs on it. It was his favorite gigging guitar, so I was shocked when he gave it to me recently. I took great care of it, always keeping it safely packed in the case when not using it, just like he did.
Last month, I brought it out to the living room to play, but had to go grab a pick. I gently set the guitar on a soft chair and headed back to my music room.
My toddler’s spider monkey sense must have kicked in because, from across the house, he knew something valuable and fragile had been left unattended and within his reach.
By the time I came back he had already gone Pete Townshend on my axe, knocking the tuning pegs on one side out of whack, completely stripping the wood where the screws were…
I couldn’t even get mad. It was Karma for all the damage I did to my dad’s gear as a kid: I was the reason he had to keep everything in cases!
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