Of course I took notice of this Aria, as any of you here likely would have in the same cirumstance. But I knew from previous experience that nothing in the display window could be sold until it was changed out. If you want something in the current display, then you've gotta wait until its taken down, and then have to be in the right place at the right time. Either that, or you've got to know somebody on the inside.
By chance, I do happen know the Lady who does the window displays at this Salvation Army store, and had in fact just last week had a quit lengthy, very stimulating conversation with her about Dune and Frank Herbert. However, I would never have presumed upon our casual acquaintance, and our shared passion for science fiction literature, the favor of giving me the inside track on the Aria Pro II guitar. No matter how I try, I just can't concede to the "If you're not cheating you're not trying hard enough ethos" which has completely swamped our culture, our economics, and our politics. So I put the Aria out of my mind, except in my fantasies. Maybe I'd time it right, maybe not. I've accepted being a loser in life, playing by the rules of chivalry, and all that the associated handicaps imply.
Yesterday I pull into the parking lot in front of the Salvation Army store and immediately notice that the music themed display window had been taken down. My heart picked up its pace a couple beats, as I had been imagining walking in the door, seeing the guitar reasonably priced, and actually taking it home with me.
Imagine my surprise, when upon approaching the front door of this Salvation Army, I saw a guitar utterly demolished, reduced to a pile of kindling wood and tossed in a garbage can outside the store entrance. Looking closely I recognized that it was indeed the Aria Pro II PW-18 I'd been fantasizing about, tossed away like rubbish. Needless to say, I was stunned. It was like coming upon the scene of a murder/mutilation.
My first thought was that the store had intentionally destroyed it, as I have heard some retailers do this in order to discourage freebies and dumpster diving. I picked the neck and the bridge out of the garbage, as they could at least be salvaged and reused. The tuners felt smooth and finely engineered. The tailpiece was a nice piece of rosewood and the bridge was hand made from bone. I searched for the bone nut, which had likely slid deeper into the bowels of the garbage can, mingling with dirty needles and used condoms. Yeah, it's that kind of neighborhood. I'd have to give up the nut for gone, as I wasn't going to risk putting my hand down there.
Once inside the store I asked the manager if they had destroyed the guitar, elaborating what a shame it was, that it was a quality instrument, that I could actually tell them the factory where it was made, and generally expressing my extreme shock and dismay.
She looked at me with a mixture of confusion, guilt, and sadness, as though being accused, she said, "I didn't smash it."
Sensing that there was a deeper story that I may be able to draw out of her if subtly pressed, I asked, "Who did it?"
She replied, shaking her head, "A customer bought it, took it outside, and smashed it right in front of the door."
"That's crazy!" I said, to which she agreed as she walked away.
Out of morbid curiosity I followed, attempting to coax more details out of her, though she seemed hesitant to share anything more than that somebody paid for it, walked out the door, and immediately did a Pete Townsend.
This incident is symbolic of something of much greater, profounder significance to me. You see, I could have accepted somebody else buying the guitar, and enjoying it themselves; and I could have even reconciled somebody else buying it and flipping it for a profit, in which case a person somewhere down the line would actually get to play the thing; but the idea that somebody bought it just to smash it . . . that's hard to accept. My therapist always tells me that everything is connected in my mind, and even small things may be symbolic of the much larger issues that are tormenting me. If you guys will allow me a little latitude, I'm going to throw out some mental riffs and licks that play off the rhythm of this experience:
*Crazy people are being allowed to do crazy things, openly, with impunity.
*Things that are fine, beautiful, and of value are being openly mocked, degraded, destroyed.
*People stand by and watch this happening, as though powerless to do anything, bereft of a voice, reduced to a state of apathy.
*I could have possibly saved that guitar from being destroyed if I had been willing to "cheat," though I was paralyzed by my own sense of goodness and fair play.
*I don't know who bought the Aria just to destroy it, though I speculate that it was some subhuman, orc-like creature who intensely resented that guitar and what it represents . . . the beauty of music, the skill and knowledge it took for a sensitive human to construct such an instrument, and likewise the discipline it takes for a musician to learn how to play it.
