My New Uncle George

There have been just a handful of people I have met during my travels, which I think about often, and I find them humbling. One of these people happens to be George from Sacramento. Mind you, when I met George, I was intrigued by his presence, because it was loud and all over the place, so much that it reminded me of... well me.

I first met George last year when I first arrived in Sacramento. I was in the midst of playing my guitar in a patch of grass, between a sidewalk, and Thelma, (my old 1985 Grand Marquis).

There was an apartment building in front of the sidewalk I was sitting close to, and next thing I know a man appears on his porch with high energy, and says “That’s beautiful, keep going! What’s your name? Who are you? How long have you been playing? Oh please keep going!”, he managed to get this sentence out without a breath of fresh air. I was stunned by his presence, and kept playing for a minute.

After my song was over, 2 younger ladies came passing him, with excitement to match his, saying “Hi uncle George!" He responded to them with joy before they went disappearing around the corner. Now, that is how I met Uncle George.

I didn't know if I should be afraid or excited to see this man and engage with him and his company. I soon realized George has many stories to tell, and he does it with the most amount of energy a good story teller needs. He once told me a story in which him and Robin Williams dry heaved together while doing a marathon, and another story that sounds familiar to my experience in Sac. It was one about George losing his father’s guitar after he had been traveling with it up and down the coast. George ended up getting his father’s guitar back years later, after some people in a guitar shop in San Francisco had brought it out from the back. This happened because George talks a lot, and he ended up telling him about losing it in Seattle, what kind of pictures were in the case, and what it looked like. If I’m right, I think it was a Martin guitar.

When I went back on the road, I wasn't sure I would ever see Uncle George again. He had crossed into my mind many times during the past year and he sure made an impression on me. When I thought about ever returning to Sacramento, he would be the first thing I would think about.

This time back around in Sac town, I was SO excited when I saw him sitting on his porch. He was excited to see me too, he just couldn't place it in his mind, who I was. After a few minutes, it came to him, and it was like a mini family reunion in my mind.

When I told Uncle George about my debacle about my guitar missing, he said "Believe it will come back, and it will come back". 

 And guess what? A few days later, my guitar did come back. What a magical man Uncle George is. 

He even convinced me the night my guitar made it back to me, that I must play the open mic that was happening next door at the coffee shop I frequent. I really don't like playing at open mics, it makes me feel.... odd, and out of place, but, he was right. I needed to give my guitar a performance for the pleasure of finding it's way back home to me.

I seriously love this man. He makes the list for my favorites.

I am so glad to have him in my life when I am in Sacramento. Uncle George is a man that looks at life with the glass full. Actually, his glass pours over with delight and pleasure with each new day and each new interaction he finds himself in. 

Thank you George for the beautiful music you play, not just on an instrument, but in my heart.