Gosh, Amos; I'll bet that's him indeed!

If he can make a living off of selling handmade wooden flutes for $50 bucks a pop, my battered old Stetson is off to him!

You will be a Daisy, Nathaile, (to coin a popular 19th Century American phrase) if you can get this fellow to make you another one for that!

If he is the fellow featured on Amos' link, then it seems that he has gone on to "bigger and better things" business-wise since he made your flute!

I could try to ressurect that mahogany "G" with some wood-putty/epoxy and take another crack at locating the holes if you want a real bargain - but it would probably look about as charming as the South exposure of a Northbound water-buffalo with bad acne!

**{8^Q !

Hey; isn't the Planet Mars supposed to be in historical proximity to Earth about the same time as you get your flute and finally divorce the cancer-sticks?

You can howl at the moon, marvel at Mars, and croon a sweet, mystical tune to the stars about midnight, when they say Mars is really gonna shine!

Can't you just feel the Cosmic harmonics already?

We sincerely hope that your Neighbors, if proximal to your habitation, are not prone to throwing things at Midnight Seranaders and Solar Celibrants!