Just to be different, here's a real letter from a real guitar.

I bought Jack Lawrence - you know, Doc Watson's partner/touring sideman - his Collings D2H. He posted it for sale on the flatpick list and I jumped for it. He wasn't playing it because he bought a Henderson and a Merrill, and he wanted to raise cash to buy the "...butt-ugly '43 D-18 from Dawg and Dexter that I've been lusting after for the last couple of months." Jack knew me because some of us on the list had gotten together with him for beer after his last couple of gigs with Doc at the Flynn in Burlington, and once in Troy, so he chose me out of the list members who jumped when he made the offer. The guitar was used by Jack on "About Time" (his solo recording) and with Doc on "Docabilly" and "Mac, Doc, and Del." He says it appears on the Doc and Grisman concert video, so I'll have to buy that. The guitar was received Friday afternoon, after it disappeared in the clutches of UPS during the blizzard we had in the northeast, and a good part of the flatpick list was sweating it out with me. The guitar is lovely - looks just like a classic Martin 'bone - but louder. A couple of finish dings on the top where, Jack says, he was guiding Doc around backstage while carrying it and Doc ran him into things. Recent refret. I'd rather have it than a new one, played in as nicely as it is, and with the bragging rights.

Anyway, on Sunday it dictated a letter to me, which we sent off to Jack:

Pittsford, VT March 11, 2001

Mr. Jack Lawrence Harrisburg, NC

Dear Daddy Jack,

Well, I'm just beginning to get settled in my new home. I was really scared when New Daddy unpacked me. He was twitching and had this wild look in his eyes. But he was very gentle with me, and he patted me all over and let me warm up, and then tuned me carefully, and he didn't twitch any more so I wasn't as scared. But then he played his first chord on me and he started to mumble and drool came out of the corner of his mouth, so I was scared all over again. But he's been very nice to me and paid me lots of attention, and been very gentle with me except when he wanted me to be Loud. I don't mind that, because I'm good at Loud, as you know.

It's kinda hard to get used to making music with New Daddy. He doesn't do much of the pretty music that we used to do before That Other Guitar came along. He mostly goes boom-whunka-boom-whunka boom on me while he Howls. Or he and New Mommy howl together. Or New Mommy plays on the noisy little cousin that gets played with a stick with a horse tail tied onto it, instead of a proper pick. New Daddy does do the pretty music, but he only does it in his kitchen when he's alone, or only New Mommy is there. And he plays it really slow. And he usually plays a tune halfway through, and then he plays a note that isn't in the tune at all, and then he says Damn, or something worse than that, and then he starts the tune over. He promised me that he'd work really hard to play the pretty music better, so I'd feel more at home; but New Mommy says he's been promising that for years and years, just like he's been promising to get thin, so I don't know.

I already got to play Out. Last night, New Daddy and New Mommy and The Big Funny Looking One took me and some cousins to a place called Black River Pub and Brewery, where they Howled for the people. It was a funny place. It wasn't anything like the Flynn Theatre or the Troy Savings Bank Music Hall, or all those other places we used to go with the old guy. It was littler. A lot littler. And the people didn't sit in rows of seats and listen and clap. They sat around tables and drank smelly stuff out of big glasses and sucked on those little burny things that make us smell bad when you take us out of our cases (yucko!) and they talked. Sometimes they yelled. But they did clap, even though they didn't seem like they were listening. The people were funny looking, too. Some of them had great big baggy coveralls and big helmets like motorcycle helmets, and drank lots and lots of the smelly stuff. I thought they might be outlaw motorcyclists from California or Florida, who had trouble with the cold here, but New Daddy says they were Snowmobilers. And the rest were wearing expensive clothes and eating expensive food, but a lot of them had casts or knee braces on, and I thought maybe this place was an orthopedic hospital for rich people, but New Daddy said they were Skiers. New Mommy had the noisy little cousin, and TBFLO had a very nice little-cousin-with-too-many-strings, and a cousin from Japan or someplace who was loud. He seemed nice enough, but New Daddy said he was a Tacky Meanie, so maybe he is. We got along OK, though.

The accommodations here are pretty good. I get to live in the "guitar tidy" that New Daddy built a few years back. He put the OM-21 out so there'd be a space for me. The OM-21 didn't get anything to say about it, 'cause it was the littlest. I have to be especially nice to it, so it won't be mad at me. My roommates are Number Five and She Who Must Be Played. Number Five was built here in Vermont by a man named Craig Anderson. She's strange looking but really sounds sweet. She doesn't get to go out much. There's a picture of her, hanging on the wall in the background, on the cover of the CD New Daddy sent you. She Who Must Be Played is a D-18VMS. I guess she was New Daddy's special darling, and she said she was louder and prettier sounding than any 14-fret dreadnought anyone ever made, so she's been really grouchy ever since I got here. I think she hates me. New Daddy promised her he'd always keep her, and he'd take her to all the festivals where he might trip over a tent peg in the dark, and the bar gigs that might get rough, but that just made her madder. I hope she'll be nicer when she gets used to me. I can tell her stories about playing with the old guy, and maybe she'll be impressed if she believes me.

I have a new case for the rest of the winter. (I know, it's spring now, down there, but this is Vermont.) It's a Collings case, but black, and built like the Martin "Geib" style cases. New Daddy had bought it from a nice man on the flatpick list, for Number Five, but he thought I should live in it for the cold weather. When he took me out last night, he had a nice warm overcoat that zipped on over my case, but it made me mad because it had a label that said "Small Dog." I'm not a small dog, am I? He says he'll put me back in my tweed case when the weather gets warm and the black case would be too hot in the sun. When I got here, he saw that the Elixrs I had on had been played so much that they looked fuzzy where the coating was wearing out, and he put John Pearse PB Bluegrass strings on right away. TBFLO gave New Daddy a set of D'Addario EXP17s for a welcome present, and he says he'll try them as soon as these strings get tired.

I think I'm going to like it here. I have to lower my expectations a lot, as far as the quality of music I'll be doing, but I think I'll be played a lot, and loved, and I'll get to keep going out and making music for people - even if not anywhere near as MANY people. And that's what matters. And New Daddy says you can always play me again if you're anywhere near here. The Paramount theatre in Rutland has been completely rebuilt, and they're having concerts in it. That Skaggs guy that whats-his-name used to work for is going to be there in May. You and the old guy should see if you can get a booking there. The old guy used to come to Rutland every so often, but he hasn't been for a while. This is the first they've had a decent concert hall.

All my love, and give my best to the old guy.

Your baby,

Lawrence D. Collings, Esq.