The governor has shut me down. Just when I was starting to slide into a groove of sorts with my guitar-playing and getting out to various open mics, the governor in what seems like simply a random dictate—has snatched away these weekly chances for me to take my music from the basement bunker onto a stage. It’s become a way to push myself to become better, which only comes when you perform. Song lyrics and chords that you nail flawlessly when it’s just you alone in a practice space suddenly disappear when nerves hit prior to going on before strangers.

Mark was killed in January 21, 2017. During the second year of living through grief and loss, things seemed to get worse, if that was even possible. The summer of 2018, I became deeply depressed. I contemplated ways to kill myself. The loss of Mark and the isolation of being alone all day in a large house with no one calling or even emailing me made life seem untenable. As much as I loved Mary and didn’t want to inflict even more pain on her than she was already carrying around, I just couldn’t see any options.

On the darkest day of my life other than the night we learned Mark was killed, I was moving towards a final decision. But, for some reason, I walked towards the corner office I had in our house we were renting in Brunswick. To this day, I still don’t know why. Maybe to buy some time before making an irreversible choice.

Sitting in the corner was my guitar case holding the Yamaha acoustic I bought back in 1989 at Buckdancer’s Choice in Portland. Just recently, Mary found the original sales slip. I paid $140 for an instrument that has brought me joy, along with frustration for 30 years. I say “frustration” because at that point in my life, I’d never managed to push through that “wall” that all guitar players have to pass through on the journey towards being proficient on their instrument. I read a book earlier this year and the author said something to the effect that “the guitar is an easy instrument to learn: it’s a difficult instrument to master.”

Until 2018, I never committed to mastering the guitar. Oh, I’d have periods that would last a few months to a year when I’d play enough so that I built callouses on my fretting hand. I’d learn Christmas songs for the holidays, or in 2001, while attending a Vineyard Church in Lewiston, I became the small group worship leader, the guy who played simple songs on my guitar and led us in worship songs each week. That’s how I learned about Michael Pritzl and The Violet Burning, a band I now cover.

Over the last 10 years or so, I rarely took my Yamaha out of the case. I had committed to being a writer and my craft. As a writer, I managed to get four books to the finish line and I wrote articles for newspapers like the Boston Globe and other local dailies, as well as auto trade magazines from 2012 to 2018. Yet, whenever I’d hear a song I liked and a guitar piece that caught my attention, I’d think, “I need to get back to playing guitar.” But, I never did.

When Mark was killed, his friend and housemate William remained in the house that Mark owned in Providence. As parents, we began the sad and exhausting task of clearing out Mark’s things and managing the house with three other tenants. It wasn’t fun at all.

William was there for six months following Mark’s death. I mentioned the guitar and William said he played. I brought the Yamaha down and left it in the house. Lucky for me he didn’t take it with him when he moved to Vermont. I’m not sure he ever played it. I toted it back to Maine on one of our many 3 ½ hour trips between our home and the house Mark owned (that we eventually sold).

Once I picked up the guitar on that fateful day and played a few songs I remembered and sang, I felt something I hadn’t in months. I’m not sure exactly how to represent what I felt but it was something akin to lightness—not quite joy, but approximating the other end of the spectrum of emotions than what I was sinking under at the time.

After a week of taking the guitar out of the case each day and playing a little bit, I started leaving it out on the guitar stand in our living area, instead of my back office. During the day, if I had 10 minutes, I’d play. Ten minutes became 20 and before long, I was playing an hour or more each day.

For a long time as a inconstant guitar player, I struggled remembering chord patterns and notes on the fretboard. Hell, I couldn’t remember the names of each string. Constantly having to think about every chord change made playing smoothly, difficult.

Interestingly, while it was in August that I chose the guitar over another option, earlier in June, I’d signed-up for an adult ed course in intermediate guitar. I expected to be one of the worst students in the class of eight or more guitar wannabes. But I wasn’t. When Randy, the longtime musician and instructor asked us to pick up the guitar and play a few chords and notes, only two of us could consistently follow his instructions for the basic chords he called out. I guess I wasn’t the worst guitar player in the world, even back then.

Unfortunately, the next week I’d be gone on a road trip for my second Father’s Day without Mark. Two days before leaving, I did something to what I thought was my lower back. I actually aggravated my SI joint and sitting and moving became painful. I never got to complete my guitar class.

The guitar sat from June until August waiting for me to pick it up again.

Since August of 2018, I’ve played the guitar almost every day. After learning new songs and progressing enough that I was starting to crave my time each day on my instrument, I said to Mary, “I think I need an electric.” I know she wasn’t thrilled about me asking for money that we really didn’t have in our budget to splurge on a new guitar and amp. But, Mary being Mary, we sat down and she asked me, “how much realistically do you think it would cost to buy a decent guitar and amp.” I gave her a figure. I knew I wouldn’t be buying a vintage axe and amp, but I also knew I wanted a guitar that would be playable and functional enough for whatever my lie ahead for me as a player.

How I ended up with my Danelectro six-string and my Vox combo amp is another story that I’ve touched on here on this blog. Stopping by Dube’s Music in Freeport with a guitar and amp apparently waiting for me in the price range I’d set with Mary, also now seems like a fortuitous event.

Simply having an electric guitar and an amp doesn’t a guitarist make. In fact, I struggled on the electric for months. I’d work on a song and I just couldn’t manage to put all the parts together. Plus, I had no concept of how scales and chord changed went to together. I never knew what key I was playing in. The theory piece of guitar-playing still eluded me.

I kept playing, though. At least an hour a day, if not more.

Once we moved to Biddeford and into our new house, I set up a practice space in the basement. I’d initially thought another part of the house might work, but what the basement allowed was a space where I could play at volumes that are necessary when playing amplified music. I continued to alternate between my Danelectro and my acoustic.

A year ago, I wrote my first song. “Walking Down the Road” is a song coming from the perspective of Mark telling his own story about his final walk. I’m not sure where that came from. But I was on my way. I wrote a handful of other songs during the fall. A few were throw-aways, but more often than not, the songs were ones I wanted to play.

In December, I went up the stage at the Wolves Club in Sanford for the first time. Their open mic was my first time on a stage before an audience. I played three songs solo on the electric. I didn’t fall on my face. I kept planning to go back in January and then it became February. In March I drove down the coast and jammed with an old friend who was a drummer. I’d been to an open mic in OOB twice that was geared more to the acoustic side. It was okay, but not necessarily what I was looking for. I was planning to head back to Sanford when we were forced into lockdown from COVID.

Open mic night at Jimmy the Greek’s back in February.

March, April, and May, I tried to play guitar every night after work. On my day off on Thursdays, I often spent four or five hours working on songs. We did a couple of streaming shows from the saloon in our house. I found a talented local guitar player with a track record of musical success to provide some lessons. I was starting to piece things together.

Finally, summer came and I ended up heading down to Bentley’s to play at their high-powered open mic. Then, I was hitting another one in Gray and then, up to Mechanic Falls. Before the governor shut us back down again, I played three open mics my final week.

Jamming outdoors (Jimmy the Greek’s)

I have no idea when I’ll get the opportunity to jump back on the stage. I want to keep this positive energy and performance momentum moving forward.

Yesterday, I decided to play a set of songs from our saloon. Mary was gone in the afternoon, so I knew I wouldn’t disturb her. I also wanted to see if I could produce a clearer video stream and experiment with some ideas I’d been thinking about for streaming music. I played for nearly an hour.

I’ll likely stream a show in November and see what happens come December. Stay tuned for more music from JimBaumerME.