Saturday, July 11, 2015


My husband Randy no longer carries guitar picks in his pocket.

He’s been carrying a handful for as long as I’ve known him.
We'll be married 36 years next month.

Just so you know, we’re not talking a few picks… more like a dozen. I know.

“Why do you carry so many picks?” I would ask.
“You never know when one might fall in my guitar” he would reply.
“Really? That many during one concert?” 
I would smile, cuz musicians are quirky like that.

Our granddaughter Emolyn became so enamored with her Pop Pop's guitar picks one Christmas (2009), she carried one in her little hand the entire evening while watching her Uncle Tyler, Pop Pop and Daddy play and sing Christmas carols.

Emolyn ~ Aunt Miranda ~ Mamaw
Tyler ~ Randy ~ Shawn
Well... a few months ago he was down to only one guitar pick in his pocket, even though he had not played his guitar in over a year. 

And then one day, he never put it back in his pocket.

I was heartbroken. I think I felt as long as he had one in his pocket, there was a chance he would play again.

So it has remained there ever since… along with some change, a wad of lint and his watch.

I couldn’t bring myself to remove it. So I let it collect a layer of dust, knowing one day I would snap a photo for keepsake.

My husband has Frontotemporal Dementia.

Picks Disease. 

You can read Randy's story HERE.