The Gift

        I once went to a picking party in Western N.C.  Some Doc was turning forty-five, and his wife threw a big shin-dig for him.

        By the end of the party, I reckon every picker there would have wanted to marry that woman.  You see, she gave her fellow a brand new Weber signed Gibson mandolin that day. 

        I hadn’t thought about that day in years, but I ran into that Doc at a festival recently, and he was still was playing the pride and joy.  Now the mandolin was old and battered, but still played true, and even though the Doc was noticeably gray haired, he hadn’t seemed to age much.  I reckon having a mandolin, and a wife, like that kept him young.

        I asked how his wife was doing.  She was fine, he said.  In fact, he had recently gotten back into guitar, and she had bought him a new Martin.

        Not surprisingly, he is still married to the same woman. 

Dr. B

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