Glorious drunks

  A woman and her niece came into my shop carrying a small case.
She said hello, and said she had a surprise for me.
She set the case down on the counter, and opened it up.
     It was, of course an ukulele.
      But not just any ukulele, It was one I had seen before.
      But, let's start over, a little over a year before.
     A man wandered into my shop one day, drunk as could be, but managing to avoid knocking into anything. He went over to the Ukulele wall and stood, weaving slightly.
   "Hello!" I said, and waited. These things can go several ways. usually they look at the Ukuleles, for a minute, ask If I have guitars, strum a few clumsy chords, and then leave.
"Mind if I sit?" he asked.
"Go ahead" I told him. I kept an eye on him, but busied myself at the desk.
He looked absent mindedly at the wall of ukes.
he cleared his throat
"You know he no longer travels but he's still pretty spry, He's not much on talking and he's just too mean to die"
I looked up, "Excuse me?' I asked politely
"Uncle Slayton" he said.
I shook my head."Don't know an Uncle layton"
"James McMurtry?"
I shrugged.
"You never heard of James McMurtry?" he asked
"Yeah, sure," I told him, "I heard of him. I know his dad wrote a bunch of books, "Lonesome Dove" was one..."
He nodded. "Yep. James is a poet, an' a good singer. Saw him up at Don Quixotes."
 Don Quixotes is a night club just up the street from the shop.
"Hmmm..." I said, nodding.
"Sings songs an reads poetry. James McMurtry. He's real good, you should check him out"
I nodded again.
He looked thoughtful for a second, and then cleared his throat.
"You know he no longer travels but he's still pretty spry, He's not much on talking and he's just too mean to die"
"I've heard that one" I said.
He nodded. "can I play the Guitar?" he asked.
"Sure, just be careful"
"you got a pick?"
I handed him one. He made a few rough attempts at playing, and then put the guitar back in it's stand. "Never could play the gee-tar" he said. "Ok to play one of these ukuleles?"
I went over and pulled one of the less expensive models off the wall and tuned it up.
 "Here you go," I said, handing it to him "please be careful with it."
He strummed it a couple times, and then said, "It's my birthday today!"
"Well, happy birthday" I said.
"Yep, It's my birthday so I went up to Don Quixotes and had some drinks"
"Well, Ok then"
"Had some drinks..." he nodded. he looked thoughtfull for a moment. "They told me I have the cancer in my throat, the doctors, they told me..." He tapped a spot under his chin. "I gotta go get it taken care of." He seemed lost in thought for a moment. "I'm all about holistic and organic and natural, ya know? but when they say you have cancer, you gotta get that shit zapped!"
He strummed the uke a couple more times. "It's my birthday so I had some drinks up at Don's... Saw James McMurtry there once..."
I smiled. "That's what you said"
He looked at the ukulele in his hands. "Ok," he said, "I'll take it!" He fished in his pocket and pulled out a credit card and his I.D. " I want the guitar too..." Then he looked up at the wall. "You do these paintings?" he asked.
"Yep"
"well shit!... put one of those on there too..."
I smiled, "Tell you what, uh.." I glanced at the I.D. "Steve? You come back sober, and I'll sell you anything you want, but today I am only gonna take you for 60 bucks, for the uke"
He mulled it over for a few seconds. "Ok, Fair enough"
He signed the slip, gathered his things and shook the ukulele at me. "I'm gonna learn to play it," It sounded like a challenge. "But for now, I gotta go.... Back to Don Quixotes!"
He gave a little wave and left, and I watched him weave his way up the sidewalk and out of sight. I remember thinking that he would be back the next day or so, wanting to return the uke.
But he didn't.
 It was a couple weeks later that he showed up at the shop, this time sober, uke in hand.
I got ready my return policy speech, but to my surprise, he asked what I had in the way of books.
"I have been having a blast with this little guy" he said, "but I think I need some help"
I smiled, "books are right there..." I motioned to the book shelves. "I recommend "Tip's-n-tunes" Good stuff..."
He bought a couple of books, and a few weeks later I loaned him the movie "Rock that Uke"
After that he came in and bought another uke for his wife. I was writing up the sale, and found myself asking, "so how's it going with...?" I knew I had no business asking, but it was out there, and that was that. He looked surprised, but smiled. "good!..yeah, good. Doc says it is responding, so..."
"good deal" I said.
As he was leaving he turned, "Hey, thanks, ya know? thanks for asking"

About a week later he came in again. He brought his wife's uke in to get restrung as well.
"The wife and I are having the best time playing these darn things. We've been watching James Hill, and, I mean, I know these are cheapies, but I wanna try and get that sound. Amazing!"
Then came the next part.
But it was so conversational, so, "off-hand" that it took a moment to sink in.
"I spent yesterday with my kids up in Oakland, it was good to see them, I gotta go back up tomorrow and take care of some stuff. Doc says my days are numbered, so my wife is taking some time off to...you know, take care of me, until... but we get to play the ukes together more, so..." He managed a very matter of fact smile.
It was like he was telling me his car had broken down, or about how it sure is humid today.
But no. He was telling me that he was on his way out.
I searched for the right thing to say, but there was nothing there.
"Well, " he said, "I'll, uh, see you later..."
he started to walk out, but I stopped him. "Hey, uh, are you going to be in town next week?"
He thought for a moment. "yeah, I think so."
"Come by the shop if you can, on Monday or Tuesday, I want to show you something"
"Will do" he said.

So here is the thing.
Many years ago, I built a little soprano ukulele out of Koa and mahogany. It started out as all Koa, but as I was building it, the top was destroyed as I was routing the binding channel.
Literally tore it off and sent it sailing across the shop like a Frisbee, shattering against the back wall.
 So I made a new top out of Mahogany.
It was sweet, really pretty wood, and a great sound.
Loud, but mellow at the same time.
 I really liked this one, but then decided to sell it, because one, I am not a soprano player,
and two, I was trying to establish myself in the uke-building world.
 So I put it up for sale on my website.
The next day it fell off the wall and cracked the headstock, so I took it off my website and hung it up in my workshop where it stayed for a long time.
One day I decided to fix it.
I was able to repair the crack, and reinforce it so that it was actually stronger than before, and the repair was undetectable. I hung it on the wall, where it stayed for a year or so.
I would play it now and then, but like I said, I am not a soprano guy, so again I decided to sell it.
I thought I should take some new pictures of it, and as I reached for it, I knocked it off the wall.
It fell, this time damaging the sound board. I was able to repair the crack, but I decided not to put it on my website because of the repairs, and potentially have to deal with shipping it back and forth for approval, so again, it went back on the wall.
So then five years go by, and I open my ukulele shop.
I needed some inventory, so I was going through the ukes I had. I took down the little soprano and as I was tuning it up, the ebony saddle broke in half. So, I replaced the saddle, but decided it did not want to be sold, and again, I hung it back up on the wall, where it stayed for some time.
 
Steve came back by the shop on that Tuesday.
"Hey!" I said, "glad you could come by"
I went into the back and came out with a small case. I opened it up, and handed the little soprano uke to him.
I had re-strung it in Low G, and cleaned it up a bit, made it shine. It played beautifully.

He regarded it for a moment, gave it a few strums, and nodded. "Nice"
I told him, "This was the first soprano ukulele I ever built."
I wanted to tell him the story of it's journey. I wanted to tell him here was a time when I thought that little uke was cursed. That it did not want to exist, and should be thrown into a volcano, or burned in a pyre, that it had somehow angered the ukulele gods, and that is why it kept breaking.
But that now, I think it had a job to do, and all the problems were simply a way of making sure it was here and ready when the time came.
I wanted to tell him that story, but, all I said was, "I want to loan this to you for...well, as long as you want to play it"
He smiled. "Really? wow... I...Thanks"
"No problem" I said.
as he was leaving, he turned, "I'll make sure you get it back, after... well..."
I cut him off.."when you are done playing it."
"Thanks" he said again.
He came in a few weeks later just to tell me he was loving the little soprano.
We talked about ukes, and different players, just kinda shooting the breeze.
Then he said "Hey, we should go have a drink some time up at Dons, get away from work ya know?"
"Sure" I said.
He smiled, "whoop it up a little"
I nodded, "Get gloriously drunk"
"I'd like that" he said.
"Me too."

But I never saw him again.
I was hoping that it had turned around, that he was just busy.
But then I read his obituary in the paper.
And that was that.

     Until one day when woman and her niece came into my shop carrying a small case.
     She said hello, and said she had a surprise for me. She set the case down on the counter, and opened it up.
    It was, of course the little soprano ukulele.
    We talked a little,  they thanked me, and told me how much Steven had enjoyed playing.
They looked around a bit and then left.
I stood for a moment looking at the uke, then gave it a little strum.
"Good job" I told it, and then closed the case.

Epilogue:

A man came into my shop one day, and after regarding the wall of ukes, asked if I built any sopranos. I went and got the little uke from the back and showed it to him. He played it a bit, and then told me that it was the best he had ever heard. "How Much?" he asked.
"Well, it's not currently for sale, but if it were, $450.00" I told him.
"Worth every Penny" he said with a sigh, "but I don't have that many pennies"
After he left, I thought, "why not?" So I put a price tag on it and hung it on the wall.
And so began a love affair. He came in at least once a week just to play it, and always seemed to struggle putting back up on it's peg.
One day he had finished playing it, and muttered "Someday..." so I asked, "How much can you afford?"
he thought about it, and said, "well I don't want to be insulting, but maybe $300"
"it's yours" I said.
He bought it, and that was that.
But it wasn't.
One day he came back in and asked if I did repairs.
"Sure" I said, "What have you got?"
"The little Uke I bought, I ...I sat on it..."
"Bring it in" I told him
He brought it in, and it was pretty bad, but I was able to nurse it back to health, it it still played sweet.
When he came to pick it up, he asked how much.
"No Charge" I told him.
He thanked me, and promised to be more careful.
As he walked out of the door, I looked at the little uke,
"Behave yourself" I whispered. "your work is done. time to whoop it up a little"
I haven't seen it since.