Ouch! Nine-year-old Don Reno bumped his head against the hard fireplace mantle.
He had lost all sense of time and space as he backed slowly across the bedrooom floor of his family's home.
Don's eyes were fixed upon what must have been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
He continued to gaze at the object with intense admiration in spite of the painful distraction that left him
rubbing the knot that rose up on the back of his head.
Propped up in the middle of his bed was a gift from his father, Zebulon Reno.
Zeb had given his son his very first guitar.
The Martin Double-Ought-18, small-bodied guitar, had a sunburst finish that shined like
burnished gold as it reflected the light that danced in the fireplace.
To Don, that guitar must have looked almost alive as it glowed in the sparkling light.
Although he didn't realize it at the time, that guitar would indeed come to life in the hands of a virtuoso like himself.
Don received the gift of a lifetime that day. At the same time, Don was presented the challenge of a lifetime.
That guitar would call forth Don's maximum efforts as he grew into manhood.
He would use his father's gifts to explore the depths of his other gift.
All true artists must face the self-imposed burden of dealing with their extraordinary talent.
Picasso felt that burden when he gazed at an empty canvas.
Michelangelo faced the same challenge as he approached a marble slab, right before the stone chips started flying.
Don Reno's rare God-given talents would eventually make him one of the greatest banjo players of all time.
His world-renowned banjo pickin' of Reno and Smiley fame would ultimately eclipse the guitar playing that allowed
him to hone his banjo skills to a world-class edge.
But whatever happened to Don Reno's equally impressive guitar playing?
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