“Looking for my guitar” – Yamaha FG-612S sold in Redding 2 years ago

Saw this plea on Craigslist a year ago. Renee tells me she’d still like to find it, so I am re-posting it. Maybe you can help. In the greater scheme of things, it’s perhaps not crucial. But a poetic return of the instrument is pleasing to consider.

“It’s a long story, but here goes. First of all, PLEASE do not delete this. My name is Renee. My mother and I lived in Redding in the 70’s and I bought this guitar from Bernie’s when I was just 15. I worked a whole summer to afford it. I’d read many reviews on The Sound Junky about this guitar so I knew it was a good one.

My mom contributed half the money, and I gave her my Oldesmobile, Delta 88 to cover that. I really LOVED this guitar and all the cool accessories I had with it, as you can imagine.

My daughters were both played to, nightly, while in my stomach, with this guitar, and it lulled them to sleep while I sung songs to them with it as they grew up. Now, 27 and 20, they loved it also.

I sung to my sister, when she was alive with it, and my father. I have lost them, all 3 now…mom, dad and sisters (both).

Well, I’m 46 now. I had that guitar til 2 years ago, when my mom’s heart went into failure. She was in RMC for 45 days before she passed away, and I live in Red Bluff, and I just couldn’t afford to drive every day back and forth, so I was forced to pawn my guitar to Olde West Guns and Loan.

She died. 46 days into the driving back and forth, I lost my beloved mother, and worse, I went into a horrible depression and lost my guitar.

There’s not a price you can put on the value of it…and it’s got memories from me, while I owned it nearly 30 years.

When I came out of the depression a bit, I went to get it out and to try to piece my life back together, but discovered that the pawn ticket had lapsed during my mourning. I lost my guitar…and I know, it’s my fault, but if anyone out there happened to buy it, please, please, please, give me a call and let’s talk about how I can buy it back. I’m anything but rich…but I guarantee, it will go back to where it belongs, and I will even HELP you find another guitar if that is the issue.

This isn’t just a guitar. It’s a symbol of the memory of my mother and me working together to achieve something…the memories of the time my two daughters were inside my stomach, and the times I sung for both my parents while they were alive, and my sister who’s also passed, at all the holidays. It is an item that cannot be priced, or have a price put on it.

My # is 530-355-7573. I’d be so glad to find out it’s alive…that someone has a huge heart and understands how MUCH this means to my family, and will help me relocate it.”

Here’s an image of such a guitar from Google. Looks like a lovely 12 string, but obviously it holds more than just music for the writer. Do you know where this instrument went?
More than a guitar

For first responders

“Can you help me clean the puke out of the Durango?”
She stood wavering, ever so slightly. Maybe a little pale, but definitely with that far away look in her eyes.

River, river carry me on
Living river carry me on
River, river carry me on
To the place where I come from

As a member of the Grand Jury this year, ordinary tasks call for observing some Shasta County operations. I’m remembering her description of the Shasta County jail tour, and about the food.
Today, the schedule was to take her to the Coroners office.

So deep, so wide, will you take me
on your back for a ride
If I should fall, would you swallow me deep inside?

“You know,” I said earlier that morning, “they’re gonna have that kid there today. The child that drowned in the Trinity. Maybe you should ask for a different day.”

“When is it a good day to witness an autopsy?” she said. “I think I can handle it.” So confident. A false bravado, I’m thinking.

River, show me how to float
I feel like I’m sinking down
Thought that I could get along
But here in this water
My feet won’t touch the ground
I need something to turn myself around

Shasta County Coroner

Going away, away toward the sea
River deep, can you lift up and carry me

“She looked like a doll, I…”

“…I thought I was okay. But then I just started sweating. It was hard to breathe. I said I had to go. Then, I just lost it in the car.”

Oh roll on though the heartland
‘Til the sun has left the sky
River, river carry me high
‘Til the washing of the water make it all alright
Let your waters reach me like
she reached me tonight

“How could…” her unfinished words slowly evaporated.

No answer. What separates any of us from hearing voices in our heads? Maybe just some few brain chemicals, keeping things rational. I look away.

Letting go, it’s so hard
The way it’s hurting now
To get this love untied
So tough to stay with this thing
‘Cause if I follow through
I face what I denied
I get those hooks out of me
And I take out the hooks that I
sunk deep in your side
Kill that fear of emptiness, loneliness I hide

“It must have been terrible for the first responders, the rescuers, the searchers. Whoever pulled her out of the river will have that image.”

And so we are thinking of you today, Search and Rescue, First Responders, and Coroners. All very needed. All quietly going about your very necessary work. You are in our thoughts. Whether in Trinity County, Shasta County, or Joplin Missouri.

River, oh river, river running deep
Bring me something that will let me get to sleep
In the washing of the water
will you take it all away
Bring me something to take this pain away


Lyrics: Washing of the Water, Peter Gabriel