Within a span of twenty minutes last night I encountered, engaged, and embraced the magic.  I was headed out to a meeting carrying my brief case and guitar when I was stopped on the sidewalk by two homeless men waiting to get into our shelter.    “Hey man, you play the guitar?”  I stopped and chatted with them for a few minutes, talking about music, life, and unfulfilled dreams.

I crossed the street and entered the lobby of the parking garage where I was intercepted by the security guard.  “I didn’t know you played guitar.  Can I see it?”  Well, I was a little late but I put my things down and obliged his request.  He had a lot of questions:  “What kind is it?  How long did it take you to learn to play?  What kind of wood is that?”  When I told him that it was actually a guitar  I made:  “What?!?  You made this?”  This led to another round of Q&A, which I enthusiastically entertained.

Just as the elevator doors were closing I heard a voice saying, “Hold the door.”  A well-dressed, 60ish woman got in.  “Ooh, a guitar!  I love guitars!  Can you play something for me?’  I was tempted to bedazzle her with my Smoke on the Water riff but I had reached my floor and was now running pretty late.  I told her maybe some other time.  As the doors closed behind me I heard her say, “I love Gordon Lightfoot!”

I was carrying two things.  Nobody asked me about the brief case.  It was all about the guitar.  It’s magic!

Drink up!