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TMC55

Gibson Father's Day story

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Forgive the length of this, but it's all true...

 

When I was 15, my Dad and I went in on a Gibson SG. That meant it was my guitar, he just ponied up half the money. I think we paid $225 for it. Or maybe that was my half. Either way, this was in the late 70s, and it was a 1972 SG. I was learning to play guitar at the time, and that was my one and only electric ride for the next decade, through a couple or three bands, many hours alone, in the practice rooms, and on stage.

 

Fast forward to the early 1990s, and I had long given up pursuing the Rock Star dream and only played once in a while. But a son was on the way, and his mom and I were in that phase where you try and figure out a good name for the baby. Discussions, notes, baby name books, etc. She was probably 7 months pregnant and driving one day when she saw a road sign pointing the way to a town called Fenton. "Hmm," she thought to herself. "That's a good boy's name." Then a bell went off. "Wait, Mark (that's me) has a Fenton guitar." "Oh, no," she mused, "I think it's called a Fender." (I didn't have a Fender. I had the SG). Then her thoughts caught up with reality. "No, he has a Gibson guitar." And then: "Hey, wait a minute, Gibson is a good name for a boy." Later that night, she told me about the Fenton sign and the Gibson idea. That's all I needed to hear. I was in. We named him Gibson. Was he named after the SG? Not totally, but kinda...

 

Soon after he was born, I said I was going to give him the SG when he turned 16. He turned, and I gave it to him. He never joined a band or anything, but he taught himself to play. Last time I visited him, it was sitting in the corner of his bedroom. He's proud of the guitar, and proud of his name.

 

Fast forward to last fall. That's when, after a 30-year break, I got back into playing and buying and selling guitars. In a big way. It's consumed me the past several months. And I've had a notion in the back of my mind I should probably get an SG, for sentimental reasons at least. I've looked at a few in the past months, played a couple every time I visit the GC. Nothing really called to me. I thought maybe I was all grown up and just didn't feel the SG love anymore. (And I have fallen in love with a couple Fenders and a Heritage, along the way). Then on Sunday, I popped on Facebook and someone had just listed a 2015 SG Special for a decent price. I made him an offer, he bit and I got in the car and headed over to look at it. Turns out, it was minty fresh, played like soft butter, sounded like smoky brisket. Cherry finish, zebra humbuckers, fast comfortable neck. Everything is just nice and easy. The G-Force tuner thingy is something I would never seek out, but, ummm, I'm already spoiled by it.

 

As I was heading back home on Sunday with the new SG in the back seat, it hit me. It was Father's Day. Of course, it was the day to get my SG.

 

So next time I talk to Gibson (my son), I'm gonna tell him when he has a kid, that kid has a 2015 SG waiting for him or her on their 16th birthday...

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1529362997[/url]' post='1941167']

Forgive the length of this, but it's all true...

 

When I was 15, my Dad and I went in on a Gibson SG. That meant it was my guitar, he just ponied up half the money. I think we paid $225 for it. Or maybe that was my half. Either way, this was in the late 70s, and it was a 1972 SG. I was learning to play guitar at the time, and that was my one and only electric ride for the next decade, through a couple or three bands, many hours alone, in the practice rooms, and on stage.

 

Fast forward to the early 1990s, and I had long given up pursuing the Rock Star dream and only played once in a while. But a son was on the way, and his mom and I were in that phase where you try and figure out a good name for the baby. Discussions, notes, baby name books, etc. She was probably 7 months pregnant and driving one day when she saw a road sign pointing the way to a town called Fenton. "Hmm," she thought to herself. "That's a good boy's name." Then a bell went off. "Wait, Mark (that's me) has a Fenton guitar." "Oh, no," she mused, "I think it's called a Fender." (I didn't have a Fender. I had the SG). Then her thoughts caught up with reality. "No, he has a Gibson guitar." And then: "Hey, wait a minute, Gibson is a good name for a boy." Later that night, she told me about the Fenton sign and the Gibson idea. That's all I needed to hear. I was in. We named him Gibson. Was he named after the SG? Not totally, but kinda...

 

Soon after he was born, I said I was going to give him the SG when he turned 16. He turned, and I gave it to him. He never joined a band or anything, but he taught himself to play. Last time I visited him, it was sitting in the corner of his bedroom. He's proud of the guitar, and proud of his name.

 

Fast forward to last fall. That's when, after a 30-year break, I got back into playing and buying and selling guitars. In a big way. It's consumed me the past several months. And I've had a notion in the back of my mind I should probably get an SG, for sentimental reasons at least. I've looked at a few in the past months, played a couple every time I visit the GC. Nothing really called to me. I thought maybe I was all grown up and just didn't feel the SG love anymore. (And I have fallen in love with a couple Fenders and a Heritage, along the way). Then on Sunday, I popped on Facebook and someone had just listed a 2015 SG Special for a decent price. I made him an offer, he bit and I got in the car and headed over to look at it. Turns out, it was minty fresh, played like soft butter, sounded like smoky brisket. Cherry finish, zebra humbuckers, fast comfortable neck. Everything is just nice and easy. The G-Force tuner thingy is something I would never seek out, but, ummm, I'm already spoiled by it.

 

As I was heading back home on Sunday with the new SG in the back seat, it hit me. It was Father's Day. Of course, it was the day to get my SG.

 

So next time I talk to Gibson (my son), I'm gonna tell him when he has a kid, that kid has a 2015 SG waiting for him or her on their 16th birthday...

 

I had the worst day man.... until I read this. Awesome post and fantastic story.

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Very cool.

 

I was going to name my first son Rory.

 

The problem was, I couldn't say it when I was drinking and I drank every day back then....

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Cool and a very nice story.

 

As we were foster parents who later adopted the last kid to show up at the door, he kept his first name as we had been using it for over a year although we did change the spelling. With me it is not guitars that have any kind if a special meaning but electric trains. My father bought some Lionel trains shortly after he got out of the service having been drafted a second time during the Korean War. We would set them up once a year at Christmas. When I moved out I took that original set of trains with me. Fast forward to a couple of weeks back. My son asked if I could set up his little train set which I did. That got me thinking. I had not set my trains up for at least 15 years. So I started digging up the boxes, getting everything unpacked (which I had added to over the decades) and a base built and ready to carry the load. I spent Saturday doing maintenance, checking switches and signals and such. While I did not really think about it, the big reveal was the next day - Father's Day. We spent the day down in the basement playing. The trains, which includes the locomotive and cars I got from my Dad, will go to him.

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No specific story, but I feel fortunate to be in the group of people who got good experiences... my dad’s nothing but well intentioned and awesome.

 

Dad joke - What did the zero say to the eight? ...Nice belt

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1529411001[/url]' post='1941242']

Cool and a very nice story.

 

As we were foster parents who later adopted the last kid to show up at the door, he kept his first name as we had been using it for over a year although we did change the spelling. With me it is not guitars that have any kind if a special meaning but electric trains. My father bought some Lionel trains shortly after he got out of the service having been drafted a second time during the Korean War. We would set them up once a year at Christmas. When I moved out I took that original set of trains with me. Fast forward to a couple of weeks back. My son asked if I could set up his little train set which I did. That got me thinking. I had not set my trains up for at least 15 years. So I started digging up the boxes, getting everything unpacked (which I had added to over the decades) and a base built and ready to carry the load. I spent Saturday doing maintenance, checking switches and signals and such. While I did not really think about it, the big reveal was the next day - Father's Day. We spent the day down in the basement playing. The trains, which includes the locomotive and cars I got from my Dad, will go to him.

 

Similar story here. Lionel set my WWII dad bought around 1949 in Brooklyn. Only set up around the tree on Christmas. Every Christmas. Tinsel succeeded every so often in shorting it out. Aluminum tinsel falling across the tracks. Finally, this summer, it spent weeks with a rare now - expert repairman. Good as new - gave it to my adult son. Not really "valuable" like a lot of our old guitars. Their treasure lies in the memories attached that are passed down.

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