Goodbye to my old faithful banjo

For this blog post I say good-bye to an old friend. I’m sad to report that I was the victim of an attack by vandals during the third weekend of May. (Incidentally, I’ve received very supportive comments via email and phone calls and in-person conversations because of it, which I really appreciate.) The long and short of it is that I tend to live up to my banjo player reputation on occasion, and this was no exception. I crawled home fairly late on a Friday night after having enjoyed the parking lot picking of a bluegrass festival, and boy was I tired. Absent mindedly, I jumped out of the car and hustled upstairs to bed because I was tired and I had to be up for workshops back at the festival early Saturday morning. Between being a scatter-brained banjo player, and tired to boot, I didn’t even think to grab my instrument as I tra-la-la’d up to bed. What a shock to come down the next morning (not bright-eyed or bushy-tailed, nor even joyful or triumphant…I’m not a morning person) only to find my banjo laying beside my car, out of the case, broken into several pieces! Now THAT felt like a kick in the stomach.

It’s interesting to note that these punk hoodlums took maybe $50 of incidentals from the car, but chose to SMASH my banjo, ruining the neck beyond repair. They could have taken the $1,000 instrument, which has a $180 Fishman pickup installed on it, along with a Shure SM57 microphone and mic cable in the case, not to mention the case, and pawned it/sold it/whatever. Clearly this was not the work of professional thieves. I mean c’mon! In the very least, banjos make good kindling.

I think the problem is that during the previous times I’ve left my banjo in the car, I’ve come back to find the window smashed and 3 more thrown in. This time they were so angry to find a banjo in my car that they decided to smash it. I picture them very scared in the night after stumbling onto the banjo as they rooted around in the car and yelling “kill it before it breeds!!!”

There are times when we’re uplifted by our fellow man or by society. There are times when our faith is renewed at the spirit of humanity and just how wonderful we can be to each other. Then there are other times when a senseless crime is perpetrated on you and you become bitter and a bit jaded. I definitely went through that. This banjo was my friend. It had a voice and spirit. It spent many many hours hanging from my shoulder as I plied my trade, teaching beginners and gigging for audiences, not to mention the many jam sessions we spent together. Any musician who tries to be serious about his or her art forms a bond with their instrument, and your instrument becomes an extension of your physical person. I could feel the ancient tones course from my banjo into my finger tips, through my arm, and into my very being. I’ve thrilled to be picking and singing my heart out, and I’ve fallen in love with my instrument. I’m going to miss this banjo. It wasn’t the most valuable instrument in the world, but to me it was worth so much! It was a part of me. It somehow feels so wrong to have to say this was my fault because I didn’t lock my car or take the instrument in. People came and robbed me of my instrument and a part of my livelihood, yet it’s my fault that this happened. They walked away to perpetrate more crimes, being able to say “well, dude, I guess you should have locked your car. Too bad.” It’s just wrong, isn’t it? This is my fault?! Sad but true in the technical sense. How wonderful for them.

I close on an uplifting note by saying that in spite of what happened, my faith in my fellow man has been renewed again. On the one hand, random men (or maybe women, who knows) came and dealt me a needless, senseless blow. But true to form, some wonderful gestures have been extended to me since my banjo was ruined. Most of all the kind comments and sympathy that I’ve received. As with most crimes, they usually hit when the victim is least prepared to deal with it. I have no ability to pick up another stage-quality instrument at this time due to various bits of bad luck that have befallen me in recent years, leaving me fairly weak financially. However, without missing a beat, one of my band members stepped up and offered to fund a replacement banjo via a loan. Not only that, but a member of our bluegrass association (The West Michigan Bluegrass Music Association @ www.wmbma.org) sent me a check and a personal note, out of the blue, saying “please put this towards your banjo replacement fund.” I am tempted to thank each of these people publicly, by name, but I know that neither one of them did this for glory. They are just good people who care. They are what’s right and good about my fellow man. They know who they are, and so I do say THANK YOU very publicly to both of them right here in this column.

I’ll be paying off the new banjo for many months to come (I’ll have bought it by the time you are reading this.) So don’t be surprised to see me at an intersection near you holding a sign that says “will pick for food”. My new motto is “have banjo, will travel”. And I make this offer to anyone who cares to take me up on it: for a nominal fee, I’ll come and play banjo for you, anywhere, anytime, no questions asked. But for a slightly higher fee, I’ll stay home and not subject you to the noise.

I’m eager to put this behind me and to start enjoying my new banjo! I’ll keep you posted on how it goes.