People

The Sweet Psalmist

by Terry Barlow
04/26/19
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I met a man named David in the audience who wore his hair long with a head band. He liked my song and the guitar on which it was played. Do you play? I asked. And yes, he answered, was once in a band, can you tell by my hair? He had an old guitar he used, held together as though by glue and duct tape (like jazzman Charlie Parker's infamous saxophone) and a stick he used to replace a broken part, it worked. He called it his "Frankenstein" guitar. That could mean it turned on him unexpectedly like a monster of his own making, I don't know. Do you want to play something and I offered him the guitar. Do you have a pick, he asked, but I had none, preferring strangely to use my own fingernails. Do you have one of those plastic tabs that supermarkets give you for your keychain, he asked. Yes, I did and removed it from my keychain and handed it to him. Then the magic began. He did not hesitate but instead proceeded quickly to find his way without fretting among the frets as though he knew exactly where to go and what to play. I knew I was highly privileged to be sitting in front of him listening to his song. We all agreed it sounded good, no matter how many times he repeated it before doing a second song. Likely he had composed both himself, psalms he called them, and so they were. Then he spoke of David from Bible times and the Bathsheba episode, mentioning that it was partly her fault. Other lessons he claimed to have learned I had trouble deciphering from his words, but his face shone as he rehearsed them. He asked me my age and seemed amazed at my answer. He said he was in his fifties, I can't remember the exact number of his years. I told him that I had known Jesus since age 24. He found great significance in that number, and expounded some on his grasp of numerology. He alluded to things we had said and sung in such a way that we knew he was a keen listener. He could have gone on and on, but there was business at hand, so he stroked the guitar fondly and returned it to me and we said farewell for now. I saw him later riding a bicycle which pulled a shopping cart laden with supplies. The green tab on my keychain is back in place now and will hold hereafter special meaning.