For those of you who have never been there, I highly recommend it as a great place to visit. You can take a tour of the factory and watch true artists at work at each station, each one adding something different to the finished product. From where I live, it's a mere hour and a half, so I feel privileged to be able to hop in my car and make my way up Route 31 to 78 and into PA.
I bought my first Martin back in 1971 for $450. The particular model I got at the time now costs around $3900. I saved for a year for it and it became my sidekick, so to speak, in all kinds of settings. I performed with it at the Music Pier in Ocean City, took it on retreats in the Poconos and various other places, used it for singing at weddings and funerals, and did special music in church with it. Through the years it had taken a beating having been exposed to all kinds of weather and temperatures, not to mention from constant use.
So a few years ago, I took it back to the factory and had it refurbished as a gift for my oldest son (his only inheritance, I'm afraid). As the original owner the work was done at minimal cost--a great added feature to owning a Martin.
When I retired, the congregation of the Cranbury United Methodist Church presented me with my present Martin guitar which has been a true treasure for these days of my life. I put it that way because "these days of my life" are rich with opportunities to learn new things and to spend time improving in things that have already been a part of who I am.
Regarding that, I had a revelation. The area in which I live is filled with artists and craftspeople. I've had the opportunity to observe many of those folks at work doing their thing. I've been to studios and workshops and art galleries and have seen firsthand the incredible results of their talents. It's truly inspiring!
Well, on one particular day I was thinking about all that and I thought that what I needed was a hobby...something that would be a fulfilling expression of who I am. I knew one thing: I am not an artist or good at crafts. Putting two boards together without light showing through is a real challenge for me. Then it suddenly struck me: my music, my guitar--that's my art. (Please don't misunderstand me: I'm not professing to be some great performer). What I mean is that it was right in front of me. I had been thinking of it as just something I do and have done since the age of 12, but what if I made a mental and spiritual shift to more fully appreciate that part of me? What if I focused on that as that perfect hobby? And I did that and it has come alive for me in a way that boggles my mind.
The thing is that I had grown so used to it being just another aspect of my life that I had actually treated it matter of factly.
I guess my point is that each of us has something that represents who we are that is more significant than perhaps we're giving it credit. In other words, we've dismissed it as "just something we do fairly well" or we're pretty good at, but we look at it as being no more than that. I think a lot of us have a tendency to downplay our abilities and therefore tend to focus on what we can't do. Sometimes we even go to the extent of envying someone else's life and looking at our own as not all that interesting.
My father was an electrician and when he retired, he looked for ways to fill his days. I would never have guessed in a hundred years that he would have turned to crafts, with his hands rough and tough from hard work, yet he discovered something about himself that led to a hobby, the results of which have produced great enjoyment for many, many people. He created models of buildings and houses using popsicle sticks. They were of my hometown of Medford but particularly of the time in which he was growing up. They are definite representations of genuine folk art.
I think that something lies within each of us that if we had more respect for it and gave it more attention, it would enhance our lives a hundredfold, not to mention the lives of others. It may have nothing whatsoever to do with our jobs, but the truth is that it's probably right in front us or just under our feet.
Come to think of it, life itself is an art and we are the artists.
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