It’s that time of year to gather ‘round the campfire for the telling of a few ukulele horror stories. Here’s one I have dared not speak of—ever—till now. Prepare yourself for this spine-tingling tale.
Many years ago—before I knew anything about playing ukuleles—when my daughter was in 5th grade, a neighbor’s child moved to another state and left a ukulele at our house. We tried to return it but the family said keep it. The ukulele was old and plain. It sat in its chipboard case on a shelf in the closet. After about 6 or 8 months my daughter asked if she could use it for an art project. I said, sure.
Forgive me powers that be, I knew not what I was doing.
Oh, dear, not sure I can go on with this story! Let me compose myself...this next part gets pretty graphic...
Unceremoniously my daughter smashed the ukulele! She attached the ukulele neck (fretboard) and headstock to the top of a sculpted head. She painted the whole thing green and put ‘vines and leaves’ on it. A friend bought the piece and hung it up in his studio.
Flash forward 10+ years, I discovered the joy of ukulele. I also along the way discovered vintage ukuleles. I was suddenly haunted by the ukulele. What was it? A Harmony, a Martin, a Schmeck? While I believe it wasn’t a Martin 5K, I am not sure what it was. But I would probably know by the shape of the headstock. But ever since then, I have been afraid to visit the friend who bought the art piece to find out.
What’s your ukulele horror story?
Many years ago—before I knew anything about playing ukuleles—when my daughter was in 5th grade, a neighbor’s child moved to another state and left a ukulele at our house. We tried to return it but the family said keep it. The ukulele was old and plain. It sat in its chipboard case on a shelf in the closet. After about 6 or 8 months my daughter asked if she could use it for an art project. I said, sure.
Forgive me powers that be, I knew not what I was doing.
Oh, dear, not sure I can go on with this story! Let me compose myself...this next part gets pretty graphic...
Unceremoniously my daughter smashed the ukulele! She attached the ukulele neck (fretboard) and headstock to the top of a sculpted head. She painted the whole thing green and put ‘vines and leaves’ on it. A friend bought the piece and hung it up in his studio.
Flash forward 10+ years, I discovered the joy of ukulele. I also along the way discovered vintage ukuleles. I was suddenly haunted by the ukulele. What was it? A Harmony, a Martin, a Schmeck? While I believe it wasn’t a Martin 5K, I am not sure what it was. But I would probably know by the shape of the headstock. But ever since then, I have been afraid to visit the friend who bought the art piece to find out.
What’s your ukulele horror story?
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