Until my stroke in 2007, I had played guitar, on and off, since I was 11, so close to 40 years. Over that period of time, I must’ve used at least a hundred picks, not to mention lending them out to people who never returned them, one person in particular… Anyway, whenever I would hear of a new type of pick, I would want to get a dozen of them just to see how well they played, how well they fit in my hand, how the guitar sounded when I used each one. Why a dozen? Because even if every pick is the same style and weight, some are more flexible than others, and some just feel more right than others. I can’t explain it, that’s just the way it is.
Since having to give up the guitar, they’re all sitting in a plastic school box (the modern day equivalent of a cigar box) in a drawer. I must have upward of 200 in there, not exactly collecting dust because they’re in a plastic school box which is sealed against the elements. Occasionally I’ll pull the box out and take a couple of them out, hoping against all hope that maybe I can grip the pick well enough to attempt playing the guitar again. You know when you wake up in the middle of the night and start thinking about all the things you screwed up? My thing is all the stuff I should have done after my stroke, and figuring out a way to play the guitar despite my disability. Woulda, coulda, shoulda, right?
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