Play what sounds good

I met John Dee Holeman only twice but he’s one of my all-time favorite people.  A blues guitar player who'd be great even if his big hands never picked a note.

I’ll tell you why, but, first, let me tell you how I met the man.

A few years ago, I wanted to learn to play guitar – Piedmont country blues guitar.  I bought lessons on DVD's but the DVD’s couldn't do anything about my ADD.  For the life of me I still can't memorize a whole song.

I was spending a lot of time in North Carolina that summer and heard about MusicMakers.org. 

Turns out there are still a lot of old-time country blues players in that neck of the woods.  Most are in their eighties now.  They played back in the day.

These days, many of them live below the poverty level.  Music Maker.org help get a place to live if that's what they need.  Or, if they're lucky enough to have a place they call home, maybe they could use a fan in the summer.  Or a heater for the winter.  I met Boo Hanks who told me he was related to Abraham Lincoln's mother.  He needed a new trailer. There was no way to fix up the old one.  MusicMaker got him one.

Most of these men and women are African-Americans. They never made much money.  They played in the segregated south. 

I called MusicMaker and asked,  “How can I help?  I’m a writer. And, Oh, by the way, I’m trying to learn to play guitar.  Do you know any teachers?”

“Are you kidding?  These guys would love for you to pay them a visit.  Bring your guitar.”

I knocked on John Dee Holeman's screen door, guitar in hand.

I sat across from John Dee as he played my acoustic guitar and sang Will the Circle be Unbroken and Louis Collins.  In between, he told me that was how he learned - sitting across from his cousin.

And how his mother made him play down by the river until he got good.  When he got good his mother let him play in the house. 

He ran his hand across his eyes when he told me she wanted him to play at her funeral but he couldn’t.  He was too busy moaning. Maybe he said mourning and I heard moaning.

Intermission.  The doorbell rang.  It was a young lady - Jehovah’s witnesses.  John proudly asked if she’d come back because he was giving a guitar lesson.  

"Oh, you're a musician?"

"I've played around the world. Japan".

He sat back down, picked up his guitar and said to me…and this is whole the point of the story…

“That, that’s just a denomination. It’s all religion.  You try to do what’s right.  That’s how I've always tried to live my life.  I try to do what’s right and not what’s wrong.  That’s what I’m trying to tell you about the guitar. Play what sounds right and don’t play what sounds wrong.”

I took my son, John A. back to meet John Dee a week later.  John Dee came to the door dressed in a perfectly pressed tuxedo shirt.  He was happy to see us.  I was privileged.

His electric guitar was waiting inside.  So was his National steel guitar. 

He played for hours. We took a break and went into the kitchen for glasses of water, then said goodbye.

I asked my son what he thought about all this.  “I don’t know about the music, Dad. (I think he wished John Dee played Jay Z) But that’s one great guy."

Play what’s right and don’t play what’s wrong.