The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

I’m the sort of person who doesn’t mind making mistakes. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, is my motto. I got a lot of friends who figure the opposite, nothing ventured means no screw ups. Life is for learning, I’d reply, but they’d probably tell me, play it safe.

It’s not like I’m a risk taker. I don’t climb Half Dome in Yosemite with no ropes. I don’t have any interest in exploring the back country of the Amazon or summiting Mt. Everest. I don’t sky dive or bungee jump. My idea is to see if I can live long and if missing some thrills is part of the plan, okay by me. But I do think we should challenge ourselves a little. Otherwise we relegate ourselves to cable TV and the vicarious lives virtual reality is soon going to make normal.

I built a kayak back about 1990, then took it out into the Puget Sound and up into the San Juans. Two years later I built a sailboat and the next year built our house. These were leaps of faith and if you knew me back then, you’d understand how far the leap was, me being a non-tool user of the first order. I grew up without the usual male oriented skill sets of my peers. When I asked my guidance counselor in high school if I could take shop class, I was told I was on a college career track. Sadly, I listened to him and opted to take advanced mathematics.

Not saying calculus didn’t help me build our house, but … let’s face it, woodworking might have been far more germane to my efforts. Nevertheless, necessity is the mother of, if not invention, at least improvisation. Ironically, my life gravitated toward the skills I didn’t have. But you learn that if you set aside the desire for perfection and aim a bit lower, most things are possible. You know, before the Digital Age made hand skills obsolete.

I built myself a guitar last winter. What I learned, other than how unprepared I was for such an endeavor, was how much there was to learn other than just slapping wood together. The science of audio physics, to name one obvious aspect. So when I finished my little project, I was disappointed in the sound my guitar projected while weeping. Which, I confess, propelled me to violate my vow never to make another guitar again and try one more time, maybe see if I could create an improved audio landscape. Maybe put that calculus to use.

Halfway into the second guitar I came across a You-Tube video showing a guy tapping the soundboard as he shaved the braces underneath. By the end the difference from a dull thud to a ringing sustain was downright impressive. I realized my first guitar was more like the dull thud, so naturally, in the middle of the second’s construction, I disassembled the first one. One step forward, couple steps backward into the realm of luthier repairman.

I just finished both yesterday. The first one sounds much better. Meaning, if I had done that earlier, I would’ve saved myself the month I spent on the second. But now I have two handmade guitars, both of which I’m happy with. Maybe I should take some time now to do something else. You know, maybe learn to play one…

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