Bassically

 MAY 7, 2023

On the way home from preaching this morning, my truck suddenly swerved to the right, running off the road, fortunately into a driveway where I was finally able to get it stopped before hitting anything. When I finally calmed down and wiped the sweat from my brow, I noticed I was in the parking lot of the Frewsburg firemen’s pavilion where, miracle of miracles, they were hosting a musician’s swap meet. Talk about turning a bad situation into a blessing! Of course, such Providence meant I had to check it out.

Meeting an old friend at the door, I paid my $3 entry fee and chit-chatted for a couple minutes before checking things out. Guitars, mandolins, fiddles, banjos, drums, amps, equipment, even old LPs and a harp were on display and for sale. I was admirably impervious to their siren call. As I walked down one aisle, wonder of wonders, there before me were two—two; not one, but TWO old Kay basses lying on a table, one of which was an old Kay C1 just begging to be touched. Had I been thinking, I would have remembered the old yard sale dictum, “If you break it, you bought it,” and managed some cosmetic damage, but alas, my brain wasn’t in full gear after preaching earlier.

It was a beautiful old instrument, with plenty of dings and scars bearing testimony to a life well lived, and when plucked, responded with a resonant “boom” that was music to my ears. I was introduced to the owner, an 85-year old gentleman who used to play in a number of bluegrass bands over the years. As we talked, I told him I hadn’t expected to be there today, but was passing by after preaching in a little church down the road. His eyes lit up, and as we talked about playing in church, he introduced me to his wife. 

It is probably a good thing I hadn’t expected to see such a beautiful old bass today, especially one for sale. Had the requisite money been in my pocket, I would have had a lot of explaining to do to Linda. But between you and me, it would have been worth it! 

I ran into a Christian brother who was also checking out the wares. We talked, and I came away appreciating the fellowship of brother musicians. As I told the old gentleman who owned the bass, “I am living proof you don’t have to be good at music to enjoy it.” I don’t have the time or talent to play out at a bluegrass event, but rubbing shoulders with those who do scratches an itch that occasionally needs tending to. 

I am grateful for this serendipitous half hour that was sandwiched in between meeting new people and preaching in the little Methodist church in Akeley, PA, and sitting at the dinner table with my family around me, eating, talking, and laughing in family and Christian joy. It’s been a good day, and if anyone wants to contribute to the Bailey Bass Fund, you can PM me. Just don’t tell Linda!