Lost & Found: My Guitar

I was on my way to a gig when I noticed that my guitar had been stolen. It was a heart-wrenching feeling. I got out at a red light to double check that all my gear was in my rig. I almost passed out when I saw the empty space where my guitar had been just a few hours before. The Gibson has been in the family since around 1997. My father gave it to me when I set off for Toronto. It has been through a lot since then. It’s a workhorse; aching and cracking but never complaining.

The pandemic meant losing almost all of my work. Losing the guitar was a gut punch. I phoned every music store and pawn shop that I could find around the Maritimes. Miraculously, I got a call a few days later from Charlottetown Long & McQuade, PEI’s biggest music store. The guitar showed up for “repairs.” The staff held the guitar for me, and now it’s back in my hands. I am bewildered and ecstatic that it showed up. I don’t have any details yet on who the bandit is and why they brought it to L&M. For now, I’m just happy to have my resurrected friend back in my arms.

Here is a short description piece I wrote last year about the guitar:

The Gibson CL-30 Deluxe wields a mahogany neck: solid and straight. Like a faithful fishing rod, the guitar neck is comfortable to work with. Twenty shiny frets make up its rosewood fingerboard; the original frets had been worn down entirely. The back of the neck, scratched and chiseled, takes the appearance of an ancient cave drawing. Its glossy nitrocellulose lacquer decays; not a sign of neglect, but of constant use and exposure to frigid Maritime winters.

Within the soundhole of the guitar is an orange sticker listing the style, serial number, and a guarantee against flaw. The orange colour signifies custom shop crafting from master hands in Boseman, Montana. An abalone inlay bands the sound hole. Another nine abalone inlays line the fingerboard of the guitar, in trillium shapes. The use of shell is indicative of the sea shanties often plucked from this instrument. On the headstock, one final trillium protrudes like a figurehead on a ship. Six gold Grovermatic tuners jut out like rudders.

       Twenty years of age cracks cover the Sitka spruce-top of the instrument. One particularly long and ugly split (the result of a dry winter) has been sealed and re-finished. On the bottom corner of the body, a repaired crack still bares the bruise of a regretted drop. Flaring out from the soundhole is a pearloid pick guard, mahogany in colour. The back and sides of the dreadnought body are solid African Bubinga, glossy with a beautiful waterfall grain pattern. The wood looks like it was soaked in red mud.

Despite its ancient appearance, the CL-30 still smells of new wood. Glistening, impatient strings have been wound upon the relic; the fusion of old and new producing an ageless instrument. When the next gig comes, the guitar that helped to pay for a house will be strummed again.

Here is an article about my incident: https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/prince-edward-island/pei-stolen-guitar-shane-pendergast-1.5678284