Lessons from a $20,000 Mistake

Anyone who’s never done anything stupid – please raise your hand.

Yeah, thought so.

One of my biggest lowlights occurred in 1981. I needed a chunk of cash quickly. As a young TV producer-reporter working my second full-time job after college, I couldn’t just go out back and shake the money tree.  I didn’t have a money tree, of course, much less an “out back.” So I did a quick inventory to see if I had anything to sell.

Throughout high school and much of college, I played guitar in church. I had a nice, serviceable Yamaha acoustic that was perfect for that. But I also had an electric guitar and amplifier I hadn’t touched in years. Mom and Dad bought them for me when I was 10-years-old.

There was no eBay or Craigslist in 1981 to estimate its value, so I decided to offer this used, 15-year-old instrument for the original, full sticker price and crossed my fingers. I threw in the amp just to get it out of the closet. I wouldn’t ever be needing it again, would I? Still, I was a bit uneasy when I noticed the buyer – like me, a young guy in his 20s – looking like the cat who ate the canary. It prompted a little voice in my head to say, “You’re going to regret this.”

That’s how I came to sell my 1966 Fender Telecaster, polar white with a maple neck. For $300.

Fast forward 25 years. A few of us musicians from the St. Joe’s church choir were getting together to play some classic rock and oldies at the parish fall festival. An acoustic guitar wasn’t going to cut it. That was the first time that little voice’s prophesy came true. But not the last.

Over the years I have gone through a few OK electric guitars, but none that felt or sounded as good as my old Telecaster. I missed it every time the guys got together for a festival, some other event, or just to jam. While I knew I could never get it back, I started using this new thing called the Internet to find another 1966 Fender Telecaster, a polar white one with a maple neck. And that’s when that little voice exploded into an ear-splitting scream.

If you Google “1966 Fender Telecaster” now, you’ll see those listed in excellent condition – which mine was – priced in the $15-20,000 range. The same guitar I sold. For $300.

I decided to replace the guitar someday – same model, same neck, same color, but obviously different year. “Someday” came a couple of months ago. My new, 2021 model has the same look, the same classic Telecaster twang, and an even better feel. But now it has something even better – a smarter owner who realizes the best measure of value is not always in dollars.

Jesus taught us we must use the gifts God has given us. I now know that 1966 Telecaster was a great gift – but one that would have sat in its case unused for nearly three decades. Instead, at least one accomplished guitar player was able to put it to good use and derive great joy from it.

And I appreciate this new Telecaster much more than the old one. I can barely tell the difference between the two. Actually, the new one plays a little bit better. And now that I’m retired, it’s actually one of the answers to “Now What.” Now I can devote enough practice time to hopefully make me worthy of such a fine instrument. In other words, maybe selling the ’66 guitar wasn’t a mistake in the first place. Maybe it was simply a nudge from God.